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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29368137">The Father's Shadow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysiummm/pseuds/Elysiummm'>Elysiummm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Daughter of Murder [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Baldur's Gate, Forgotten Realms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Found Family, Friends to Enemies, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, POV Female Character, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, alignment shifts, slow burn found family</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:20:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>190,800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29368137</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysiummm/pseuds/Elysiummm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Full BG2 novelization.</p><p>The shadow of Murder is dark and deep. As Imoen is kidnapped and the road to rescuing her grows longer and longer, Thalia feels the weight of her sire's legacy. The tables have turned, the weights of the universe have shifted, and Bhaal's divine spark awakens -- hungry. A new broken sorcerer, Thalia is pushed to the brink and struggles to answer who she is when everything else is taken away from her. And what she would be willing to do to find out.</p><p>Core party: Edwin, Viconia, Anomen, Haer’Dalis<br/>Long-term allies: Jaheira, Yoshimo, Solaufein<br/>Party guest stars: Aerie, Nalia, Keldorn, Imoen, Mazzy</p><p>There will be character death, alignment shifts, consequences, grief, betrayal, the failure of vengeance, and found family as this neutral/evil party does its best to not kill each other and discovers what it means to be a hero.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Charname &amp; Anomen Delryn, Female Charname &amp; Viconia DeVir, Female Charname/Haer'Dalis (Baldur's Gate), Haer'Dalis &amp; Anomen Delryn, Viconia DeVir/Edwin Odesseiron</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Daughter of Murder [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1152422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Him [Part 1: Fire]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings. BG2 is a very silly game at times -- with the pretense of being tortured for months immediately before. In an attempt to respect the content, Thalia is distinctly unwell. PTSD symptoms; panic attacks, dissociation, anger, violence, grief. A lot of this is dealing with grief. Aspects of personal horror and moral crisis.</p><p>Alongside hack and slash fantasy violence, there will be explicit necromancy -- decomposing or rotting human bodies, organs, occasional body horror in that genre. </p><p>Along with violence, in the Underdark and a little beyond, there will be sex. Not necessarily erotic smut and not terribly graphic, but a factor of the world- and character-building. </p><p>In terms of novelization, this will be the "highlight reel" of BG2, closing plotholes, leaps in video game logic, and stretching or gluing bits together to make a coherent novel work, including adding to companions and stretching plot points. We won't meet every NPC companion. We won't do every sidequest. Amn is a little less culturally/anachronistically confusing and more Mediterranean fantasyland.</p><p>There is also heavy influence from mods. Some content I can't separate from the base game, but the most direct quotes will come from: Strongholds for NPCs, Viconia Friendship, Yoshimo Friendship, Haer'Dalis Friendship, IEP Banters. There might be occasional quotes/references from the Edwin Romance or Haer'Dalis Romance mods -- just like I'm borrowing banter from Jaheira and Anomen's romances, despite Thalia not romancing either of them. All of them are exceptional mods and I highly recommend.</p><p>-----------------------------</p><p>There is a BG1 story before this (Father’s Daughter, 125k), but if you aren’t interested, this can standalone and these are the highlights:<br/>Thalia, a Neutral Good fighter, traveled with an illegally large party (Imoen, Jaheira+Khalid, Viconia, Edwin, and Dynaheir+Minsc). Imoen pack-bonded with the drow. In the Woods of Sharp Teeth, they ran afoul of a group of Red Wizards and, to spare their lives, Thalia went along with Edwin’s schemes and helped kill Dynaheir+Minsc. Viconia ushered Jaheira+Khalid and Imoen to safety during the battle, though Jaheira left immediately after, followed by Khalid. Edwin told Thalia of her heritage and his purpose — to lead the Red Wizards to a Bhaalspawn. The group reunited in the city of Baldur’s Gate, though under great tension. Sarevok was defeated, with key help from Edwin and Imoen when all seemed lost. Viconia and Edwin made themselves scarce when the city thanked them. As per the ending of SOD, Thalia ended up dream-murdering the daughter of a duke and was to be executed. Irenicus’ catspaw saved her, only to lead her, Imoen, and Jaheira+Khalid into an ambush.</p><p>Mechanically, Thalia (in BG2) is multiclassing a fighter with a favoured soul sorcerer, but that doesn’t exist in AD&amp;D, so she’s a dualed fighter/mage. Oh well.</p><p>This will be long. Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>
  <b>Part I </b>
</h1><h2>
  <b>Fire</b>
</h2><p>
  <em><span>“F</span>ire burns. Righteous, it consumes and it is our life's purpose to guide the flame to devour the evil of this world or else it may guide us.<span>”</span> </em>
</p><hr/><h2>
  <b>Chapter One: Him</b>
</h2><p>Her memory could not be trusted. A cruel lesson to learn. Illusions waved around her, more real than real. The edges of reality blurred into fiction, yet the illusions stayed solid. The mirrorkin smiling with too familiar faces, the mirrors that didn’t move when she did.</p><p>The candle, just out of reach.</p><p>None of it was real. It couldn’t be. And still, for many days, the torments lasted long past the point of all mortal endurance and exhaustion consumed her. Consciousness left her in a cool puddle of her own blood.</p><p>And the explosion. The ripping agony of a rubber band stretched to its limits, only to snap back and shiver in horror. Her bones melted to fire, blood calcifying to metal. When her voice left her and she could no longer scream, as the power held her in silent rapture.</p><p>And sometimes there was peace.</p><p>Beholden to no illusions. Yet, she could think in it. Sometimes. When everything was quiet. </p><p>The gentle clink of chains against chains, the distant screams some long-forgotten part of her flinched at, the cold and rough iron of the cage against her cheek, her calm and steady breathing that told her she was not dead.</p><p>And sometimes in the peace, she could remember. When the peace came, she retreated into the quiet parts of her mind, eyes shut tight. She painted a world she could live in, halfway between memory and dream. An ivory fortress, friendly and inviting. A feeling of belonging and home. The smell of parchment and taste of mischief. Ale and beef stew. Balanced throwing daggers and the rhythmic songs of a thousand heroes and legends. Sparring with blunted longswords against dummies, fresh hay and pine in the air. The hot sunlight bringing sweat and a tan to her skin. The sound, in the far distance, of monks, chanting the prophecies of Alaundo in cheery voices.</p><p>She flinched and boxed her ears at the memory.</p><p>It was a name she had heard a lot of lately.</p><p>Memory dredged up the sound of boots on metal grates, then a voice. “Come, come, now, Bhaalspawn, I thought Alaundo said you were made of sterner stuff.”</p><p><em> Him </em>.</p><p>She swiped at her ears, as though it could banish the voice. Cold, creamy, soft, but with no apology, no mercy. She whimpered but knew better than to beg.</p><p>The time had long passed for surrender. Had He interrogated her, she would’ve told Him anything and everything long ago. Had He accusations of horrific deeds against her, her dear dead father, her friends, she would’ve agreed eagerly. But He wanted nothing. He never explained. Never threatened. Never demanded. He only… </p><p>A sigh. “Then, I suppose we must continue.”</p><p>The door to her cage sprung open with a screech and crackle of broken enchantments. She pleaded with her body to stop trembling. A clawed hand shook her shoulder. She didn’t fight but everything in her screamed for release. She scrunched her eyes tight and tried to call back the ivory fortress.</p><p>“Hey, hey, come on. Come <em> on </em>, we have to go!”</p><p>She started. There was something familiar of this voice. It wasn’t Him. It was feminine, high-pitched. A desperate whine that lingered in the heart. She grappled for a name as it slipped off the walls of her mind.</p><p>The small hand dragged her half-out of the cage and the voice broke, thin with fear. “Lia, <em> please </em>, I can’t leave without you.”</p><p>Her eyes fluttered open. The world wavered into focus. Floors of magically inert iron grate. Cages filled with rotting remains of former subjects. Neatly organized tables of brass and glass instruments that made her tremble at the sight, though she couldn’t quite remember what they were.</p><p>A slight girl, thin with build and hunger stared back at her with sunken blue eyes. A tight pink scar crossed over her face. Her orange hair hung lank, unwashed, her clothes torn and stained with old blood.</p><p>The girl from the ivory fortress.</p><p>“Imoen,” croaked Thalia, her throat thin and cracked.</p><p>Imoen nodded vigorously. She wrenched again at Thalia’s arm, awakening a prickling stiffness that she might once have called painful.</p><p>“You’re not…” whispered Thalia. She raised a tentative hand to touch Imoen’s clammy skin. “You’re not real, you can’t be. It’s a trap, a…”</p><p>Tears traced shining paths down Imoen’s grubby face. “I know you don’t trust me — hells, I don’t really trust me — but you gotta. We ain’t getting out any other way.”</p><p>“I—”</p><p>“Please just get up and let’s try to find a way out of here,” she whimpered. She clutched Thalia’s hand in both of hers.</p><p>An explosion roared from levels above, and a crashing of stone and metal. Men screamed. It sounded like it would bring the place down any moment.</p><p>Thalia’s heart raced and she shook her head. It could be a trap, another one. An illusion, carefully constructed from her memories, or a dream, or another mirrorkin. Another false hope. He would be back soon. He had eyes everywhere and knew when she so much as thought of escape.</p><p>“What more can he do to us?” blurted Imoen. “I can’t just sit here anymore and wait for him to come back and… and…”</p><p>Her tears streamed thick and fast. By years of reflex, Thalia wrapped her arms around Imoen. Warm, living flesh. Real. But she pushed away the hug. Imoen struggled to her feet, her hunched shoulders holding back further sobs.</p><p>“Please don’t make me leave without you, Lia,” she whispered. </p><p>Through some strength of will Thalia didn’t know she had, she managed to stand and take her first cautionary steps from the cage cell. Imoen smiled weakly.</p><p>“Time to go,” said Thalia.</p><p>Imoen slipped across the room, as she followed. They made their way down the endless hallway. Every step ached, the grated floor digging into her bare feet. The unreal brightness of magelight orbs hung between each door. Dozens of doors. More. Clinking chains, whimpers, and worse echoed behind most of them.</p><p>“How did you get out?” asked Thalia in a whisper, as though anything louder would sound an alarm.</p><p>Imoen winced, pressing a hand to her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I figure some fighting must’ve damaged my cage or—or the charm He kept for it. Suddenly, the enchantments broke and I found a jagged nail to use as a pin to crack the lock. I think.”</p><p>Metal screamed from a floor upstairs, crashing down. The very walls rumbled.</p><p>The hallway ended at last, a steep twisting spiral staircase leading upwards and continuing further down. Imoen tested the nearest bricks, but it didn’t seem to be an illusion.</p><p>“Alright,” she said, licking her lips. “So, is this like one big basement and we want to go up or are we in a tower and wanna try down?”</p><p>“What about the Harpers?” asked Thalia. “Jaheira? Khalid?” </p><p>She began to remember the ambush in the night, a clearing on a secluded road, mounted crossbowmen, and the half-elven Harpers who had so eagerly taken up arms against unbeatable odds to defend them. The friends of her late father. They could still be here, perhaps in a cell. Thalia couldn’t bare leaving them to such torments.</p><p>Imoen’s shoulders sunk with a sigh and Thalia’s heart skipped a beat.</p><p>“I don’t know,” she said at last. “I—There was nothing else living in either of our rooms.”</p><p>Thalia turned back to the dozens of doors lining the quiet hall. “They must be here somewhere.”</p><p>“We need to leave!” cried Imoen.</p><p>“I’m not leaving them behind,” she said with a note of finality. “If you help me look, we’ll find them faster.”</p><p>She wrenched open the door nearest. A small, shrunken creature rocked in the corner. Perhaps a gnome or halfling in a former life. Not a half-elf. It didn’t even raise a head as its door opened. She couldn’t waste more time on trying to cajole it to its senses. Reluctantly, she shut the door on the pitiful creature. Imoen groaned, but started the doors on the other side.</p><p>They had made their way through about half of the cells, each filled with the strange and wounded remains of some former subject, before finding success.</p><p>“Jaheira,” whispered Imoen, running in.</p><p>In comparison, Jaheira’s room was nearly comfortable. Cramped, perhaps, with a magical chain bolting her to the floor, but no worse than a common prison cell. A discarded pewter plate bearing the last of a meal, a bucker in the corner, a ragged blanket to guard against the persistent chill. And Jaheira herself, looking just fine. A touch thinner, but her ragged clothes showed she was still strong, stocky despite her elven blood. Her copper-toned skin and hair suffered for her treatment, but her eyes had not lost their hawkishness.</p><p>Jaheira yanked on the chain that held fast to her ankle, reaching desperately to the side wall just out of reach.</p><p>“How do you like your accommodations?” asked Thalia coolly. A bitter jolt of jealousy spun the last of the cobwebs from her mind.</p><p>Jaheira chuckled. “Well, I swear, traveling with you is never dull. Please, the key.” She gestured again, the bronze key a few feet from her outstretched hand. </p><p>“Do you know why we’re here?” asked Thalia. “Who… Who He is? Where we are?”</p><p>Imoen pulled it from the wall and undid the shackles.</p><p>Jaheira nodded her thanks. “Not at all,” she said. “I would rather leave such investigations until a time that was more in our favour. Have you seen Khalid?”</p><p>Thalia shook her head. “Not since we were captured.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t… Wouldn’t it be easier if we split up?” asked Imoen. At the looks she received, she scuffed her feet. “I mean, if we split up, then we can hide and sneak out much easier?”</p><p>Jaheira blinked at her, bemused. “But smaller groups would be more likely to be captured again? There is a safety in numbers.”</p><p>Thalia felt she knew what Imoen was biting back. There was an awful lot of commotion upstairs. Once that was dealt with, alarms would be raised and security sent out. Even as four of them, even if they did have armor and spells, they wouldn’t stand much of a chance. But one small group could scamper through, while He chased another. Bait.</p><p>Thalia couldn’t help but stare. It was cold-hearted, practical, and utterly ruthless. A sacrifice of morals for another’s life. Not Imoen. Everything that had once led Thalia to end the lives of two of their own.</p><p>“Imoen’s right,” said Thalia. “There’s bound to be more prisoners escaped than us three. They run around, get captured, and cause more noise. And while they’re being dealt with, we can sneak out.”</p><p>Jaheira’s eyes flashed. “Fine, then. Whatever city we are in, ask for me at the nearest inn or tavern. Elsewise, follow the rising sun to the next settlement.”</p><p>“We’ll help you search the last of this hallway, at least,” said Thalia.</p><p>With three of them, they cleared the remaining rooms, to no result. Considering Jaheira’s fine health, Thalia didn’t fear for Khalid’s safety. Jaheira still had nothing but a glare to give them when they parted ways at the spiral staircase. She continued down, and Imoen and Thalia upwards.</p><p>The stairs ended at a curious landing. Rather than the castle or dungeon level she had expected, Thalia found herself in a low-ceiling cave of rusty rock deep in the womb of the earth. It wasn’t long until it opened into a vast cavern. Pools of glowing grey water collected along the edge of the room, dripping from stalagmites hidden in the blackness of the ceiling. Giant mineral deposits dominated the room, spears of red crystals that hummed with a resonating note.</p><p>Illuminated by the faint grey light of the pools, Thalia knelt to examine the shadowy corpses. Five or six, mostly men, clad in close-fitting black clothes. Each carried a standard kit of assassins and thieves amongst them — daggers, pins and probes, even a poison. </p><p>“I don’t suppose you’ve been able to prepare any spells down here?” asked Thalia. She handed Imoen one of the daggers and they pulled on the dead men’s boots. Thalia grabbed a pack from one of them and filled it with the poisons and potions. Most were labeled in a strange language, but some she recognised.</p><p>“Have <em> you </em> seen my spellbook?” scoffed Imoen.</p><p>The bodies irradiated the powerful thrum of magical energies. It rose the hairs on the back of her hands. No wounds. No blood. No scalding burns. Not a thing to suggest any of the people were dead aside from a lack of breath and heartbeat. Even a powerful Red Wizard who once tailed her had never left such a mark on his victims.</p><p>The sounds of fighting became clearer. The repulsive taste of coppery magic slithered down her spine. </p><p>Thalia stepped to the edge of the nearest pool. The grey water radiated a flickering glow like a candle. A candle just out of reach. Her hands shook. A black void opened in the pool, icy tendrils crawling from the crystals nearest, caressing her legs, her spine with a lover’s touch. Delicate but firm. They demanded blood and stoked her rage wordlessly with a voice she knew far too well.</p><p>Bhaal.</p><p>Stumbling backwards, she tore her eyes from the pool. The tendrils melted, as bad dreams in the morning.</p><p>Imoen stared at her and Thalia realised she was panting, all but sobbing. On a second look, the pool was calm.</p><p>“What in the Nine Hells is this place?” asked Thalia.</p><p>But Imoen had no answer to that.</p><p>They hurried back to the spiral staircase and continued upwards. The walls turned back to brick and the next level showed the origin of the grey pools. A canal of the same strange liquid flowed down a narrow, short hallway. Every time her eyes glanced over the strange fluid, she became entranced and had to pull them away. Tunnels branched off every ten feet into a tight maze. Grates on the far wall and ceiling belched out more of the strange glowing liquid. It splashed, heavy with refuse. The walkway slid under her feet, moist and slimy, the air tinged with a sour smell as they moved onwards. </p><p>“Sewers?” whispered Imoen. She edged along the walkway close behind her.</p><p>Thalia nodded. “I think so.”</p><p>Islands of waste bobbed down the grey canal. The sour rotten smell intensified, but Thalia almost felt like cheering. Whatever madhouse they were in, sewers were most certainly on the bottom. They had to go up.</p><p>Imoen gasped in her ear, pinching and prodding to hurry. She walked as fast as she dared, Imoen pushing her deeper into the sewers and further from the spiral staircase, but then she heard it. Hard clumsy footsteps. Her heart caught. As they rounded a corner, a monstrous splash sounded from behind them. Waterlogged footsteps strained against the current after them.</p><p>Thalia pinned herself and Imoen against the wall. Visions swam in her head. Being dragged back down the stairs, chained back into the cage, His voice, the hallucinations. The pain. The candle, just out of reach.</p><p>“Prisoners, you must return to your cells,” a mild voice said. “Do not escape. The master does not will it.”</p><p>Thalia covered Imoen’s mouth to cut short a bloodcurdling scream. Even as the scream stopped, she trembled.</p><p>The creature waded through the canal around the corner. The glowing liquid cast eerie shadows around its face. It seemed like a vast piece of brown clay, pushed together in the barest approximation of a man — ten feet tall and half as wide, arms too thick and long, with dents and lumps across its large body. It looked up at them blandly.</p><p>Imoen stared, but pushed away Thalia’s arms. Something akin to a smile twitched at her lips. “Are—Are you a golem?” she asked the creature.</p><p>“Yes,” it said without emotion. “Prisoners, you must return to your cells. Do not escape. The master does not will it.”</p><p>“Wow,” whispered Imoen, giggling unstably. “This is some powerful magic stuff.”</p><p>Thalia eyed the creature warily. They would still have to pass it to return to the stairs. It stared at Imoen with two eyes of flat black crystal. “Why isn’t it… enforcing His will?”</p><p>“Golems only do exactly what they’re told,” she said. “They don’t really think. Suppose He never thought we might actually escape. If lumpy here hasn’t been told to keep quiet, he may tell us something.”</p><p>“What do you do?” asked Thalia. “What’ve you been told to do?”</p><p>The buttery neck twisted to speak at her. “I monitor the master’s disposal system and remove blockages. Prisoners, you must return—”</p><p>“Aye, I got that part,” said Thalia wearily. “Who’s the master? What’s his name?”</p><p>“He is the master. He is to be obeyed. Prisoners, you must return—”</p><p>“Where are we, and why’ve we been brought here?”</p><p>“You belong to him,” it said. “He brought you here because you are his. You will never leave. Prisoners, you must return to your cells…”</p><p>Thalia’s skin crawled. The golem’s words trembled in her legs and it was all she could do to hold herself up. For Imoen’s sake, at least, they would escape.</p><p>“Are you going to stop us from leaving?” she asked.</p><p>“The guardian will stop you from leaving. Prisoners, you must—”</p><p>“Who’s the guardian? Is that another golem?”</p><p>“The guardian will stop you from leaving. Prisoners, you must—”</p><p>“How can we get out of here?” cried Imoen. Her hands clawed into Thalia’s ragged clothes. Her eyes shone with tears.</p><p>“You are prisoners. You do not leave. Prisoners, you—”</p><p>“Oh, shut up,” snapped Thalia.</p><p>She dragged Imoen past the golem, who watched them with disinterest as they stumbled along the narrow walkway to return to the stairs. Thalia pushed Imoen ahead, past all the other landings. The smell of the sewers abated, only to be replaced by the cracks and unnatural charge in the air of magic. The battle raged on above. Strange noises and smells tempted from behind the closed doors of every level of the madhouse. Fresh hay and wildflowers, the voices of people she knew to be dead, the growls of wild animals or magical beasts, parties and torture chambers. The stairs spiraled on for ages. They must’ve been hundreds of feet into the earth. Her stiff legs protested the climb and the boots she had stolen from the dead man pinched at her toes. Thalia wondered how far down they went and thought again of Jaheira, still searching for her husband.</p><p>At last, the stairs ended at a single door. Rusty, Thalia pushed through into the remains of a battle. The current fighting couldn’t be more than one or two levels above — deafening. Dust fell from between the bricks in the ceiling. Corners leaked slime and water from above. It had once been a library, but many of the shelves had taken a wayward <em> fireball </em>. Papers smoldered. Research stations had their equipment shattered or scattered. Bodies of both the same human assassins and more brown lumpy golems lay broken and bloodied. The air stunk of magic and made her head spin.</p><p>He had been here. Not long ago, either. He and His golems had been repelling these invaders, somewhat successfully, and had driven them back up another few levels. To escape, Thalia and Imoen would have to get past Him. Her hands trembled as she thought on it.</p><p>Imoen wandered aimlessly through the still-standing shelves. Her fingers trailed over their spines. “This reminds me so much of Candlekeep,” she whispered, as though to herself. “It’s… it’s like we never left.” She whimpered and put a hand to her head again.</p><p>Candlekeep’s grand library looked nothing like the dark, dingy collection of burned books. </p><p>Thalia reached out a hand, concerned. “Im, what’s—”</p><p>Imoen spun around, her face paling further and eyes wild. “But we did! We left, Lia. I just wanna go home again.”</p><p>“We’re going home,” promised Thalia. She caught Imoen’s shaking arms. “I’m going to take us home. Are you alright?”</p><p>The creases of worry and fear eased from Imoen’s face. “I—I’ll be alright, I think. My head just… it hurts.” Imoen turned back to the shelves, a determined finger wandering over their titles. “I don’t want to face Him without anything again. There must be a spell or something I can prepare quickly. Just a <em> magic missile </em>.”</p><p>Thalia sighed. She kept a close eye on Imoen as she pawed through the wreckage of the library. She could spare Imoen a few minutes, at least. It would be futile, of course. If they met Him again, their best chance was to run. But Thalia understood not wanting to go down without a fight. She grimaced at her own poor daggers. </p><p>Thalia prised open the far door. There was no way to tell if they were on the ground floor yet. Great. More stairs. They led up and out of sight. From the sounds of it, the battle was still in the thick of it, and not too far off.</p><p>Imoen gasped with glee and ran over to Thalia with a fistful of scrolls. “Look, look, <em> look </em> here,” whispered Imoen as Thalia shushed her. “A few <em> magic missiles </em> , a <em> lightning strike </em> , some <em> melf’s acid arrows </em> , and even a <em> fireball! </em> Someone likes their evocation. I could probably find more but—”</p><p>“We should go,” finished Thalia. “Good job, though. They’ll come in handy if we run across something.”</p><p>Imoen grinned manically. She held the scroll at the ready as they crossed the hall and edged up the stairs. </p><p>The first door unlocked easily. Something about the room chilled Thalia to the bone and she pulled Imoen back on impulse. Imoen’s mouth fell open and Thalia covered it in case of another scream, but there was no need. The room had silenced her.</p><p>It was a bedroom. Pristine, ornate, fit for royalty. A huge four poster bed dominated the room, matched to dressers, a powder table, and chairs. At every corner, from the bedposts to the crown molding, a master craftsman had been hard at work. Dryads and nymphs frolicked across tapestries with all the beauty and peace of the forest. Rich greens and gold leaf shimmered like shadows. The room itself smelled alive with the forest, clean fresh earth and greenery, the sweet of flowers and the musk of wildlife. A soulless emptiness haunted the otherwise pristine room.</p><p>The more Thalia stared, the more her grip weakened on Imoen, who walked forward as though in a dream.</p><p>“No,” Imoen whispered hoarsely, “it can’t be. This bed, that table… I thought it was a dream. He took me here, told me about them.” She stroked the ivy-wrought table. “It’s for a lost love, kept in perfect condition. She despises him, but this is his monument to her.” She shuddered, her eyes wide and lost. “His voice was so unfeeling, so cold. No emotion at all, like the golem. He spoke while he cut — those spells that wove through my brain.” She bent double and clutched her head, whimpering.</p><p>“Im—”</p><p>“Get me out of here, Lia,” she begged. Her face scrunched into itself, repeating it over and over like a prayer as she clung to Thalia and cried. </p><p>Thalia led them from the haunted bedroom. As Imoen began to stumble, Thalia pushed open the nearest door. They would have to rest a moment. It seemed like another research lab. Dim globes of magelight hovered against the walls, illuminating the counters and cupboards. Strange glassworks glinted in the light, stacked on counters and cupboards. Like the bedroom, it seemed untouched by the battles and dreadfully silent.</p><p>Thalia detangled herself from Imoen, who slunk to the ground. Something had happened to them. Thalia cast her mind back as far as she dared, and found the horror of the last days — tendays — months — years in a confused blur. Experiments on them and others, the magical and physical torture, the maddening illusions. She choked back a sob as she listened to Imoen’s continued whimpers, and struggled to pull herself to the present.</p><p>Thalia hunted through the cupboards and managed to find a cup, which she dipped into a barrel. After some uneasy testing, she determined it was stilted, stale water. It moistened her cracked lips with a pleasure almost painful.</p><p>She pressed the cup into Imoen’s hands and sat next to her.</p><p>“We’ve got to calm down,” she whispered. She stroked the girl’s hair. “We <em> are </em> going to get out. It won’t be long now, but we need to keep our heads.”</p><p>Imoen gulped at the water and leaned into the touch, eyes screwed shut. “I think I’m starting to see things in the dark, like shadows and—and worse.”</p><p>Thalia nodded. “It’s alright. When was the last time we slept proper? Had real food? Once we’re settled, it’ll be okay. You want to wash off a bit of that grime?”</p><p>Imoen nodded mutely and she let Thalia lead her to the barrel. They cupped water into their hands, moistening their thick matted hair, and rinsing the sticky sweat and dirt off. Thalia’s ashen blonde hair had grown past her collar, stringy. Probably for the best, the room was too dim to see their reflections in the barrel. Thalia’s lip quirked as she imagined Imoen seeing the state she was in. </p><p>Even so, Imoen squinted into the water and brushed a long jagged scar that ran from hairline to jawbone. “We’re gonna have some scars,” she said quietly.</p><p>Scars were the least of their concerns. Surely whatever He wanted, He wouldn’t let them go so easily.</p><p>“You’re going to start a new spellbook,” said Thalia. “We’re going to get out, find a tavern, get some dinner, some sleep. Find somewhere to rest, just like we promised. That farm in the Dalelands, maybe? Sheep, wheat, oats, cows, chickens?”</p><p>“And cats,” mumbled Imoen. She smiled and opened her eyes. It wasn’t the crazed smile of when she had found the scrolls. The fear began to ease again and, for a moment, she looked like herself.</p><p>“WHO IS THERE?” a shrill voice gurgled. “Servants of the master?”</p><p>Thalia jumped and Imoen looked as though she would cry again. Thalia’s eyes scanned the room, but couldn’t find the source of the odd voice. The shadows came alive with legs and faces of monstrous beasts. Then, it spoke again.</p><p>“Please, master, help me. I know you cannot feel but—” It croaked, a wordless noise that might’ve once been a sob.</p><p>The voice came from one of the bell jars sitting on the counter. The glowing grey liquid churned within like dense fog. Wiggly specimens floated in most of them, somewhere between frogs and hairless rodents. Many floated belly-up, but a number of them moved of their own accord. Thalia couldn’t help but be reminded of jars of pickles on a cellar shelf.</p><p>“By the gods, what happened to you?” she whispered.</p><p>The creature turned its thick head. Jelly-like appendages wiggled with excitement at the voice. “I’m… dying—or dead,” it said in a greasy, shrill voice. “I remember not. Where is my master?” Its eyes spun around in its head, bulbous and glassy.</p><p>“Who are you?” asked Imoen tentatively.</p><p>“The people knew me as Riardon.”</p><p>“ ‘The people’?” Thalia realised it as she spoke. A single malformed ear stuck to the side of its head. “You’re an elf.”</p><p>Riardon couldn’t have been larger than a housecat. Arms and legs, shrunken and sinewy, drifted as tentacles.</p><p>It moaned, bubbles trailing through the glowing grey liquid. “Not any longer. I have been… dead-but-not-dead so long. I… I seek… release… I’ve been alone far too long. The master can take nothing more. I am… forgotten.”</p><p>Imoen buried her face into Thalia’s shoulder.</p><p>“How did you get in that jar?” she asked, transfixed by the strange pickled creature.</p><p>“I was… faithful to the master,” it lamented. Its mangled body struggled to form words. “A friend, even… long ago. The master suspended me until he can return our… natural states. He left my side for study of… another. And so, history is… forgotten.”</p><p>“Please, stop,” pleaded Imoen. </p><p>Thalia pulled her closer. They would leave in a minute. Unlike the prisoners in the basement they had found, Riardon was coherent. She couldn’t bear to leave such a miserable, suffering creature alone.</p><p>“He does not wish to remember… what was stolen from him,” he struggled. “I scarce remember. I cannot stand the passing of eons.” Riardon choked on his strangled emotion. Had it been possible, he sounded as though he cried.</p><p>“Do you want me to… release you?”</p><p>Riardon shook vigorously, straining for near a minute to produce a coherent sound. “Release! Yes! Please, master, I—I no longer wish to come back,” he whimpered eagerly. “Give me the oblivion master denies me. This jar is… powered by… the crystals. Let me sleep. I know you are prisoners — shh — but you must escape. There are others… deep below. Deep deep below. New ones. Save them. Please. Escape. The portal. Purple. Goes up. Blue. Goes out.”</p><p>Thalia spotted the crystal. A carved stone base at the bottom of the jar fit the organic crystals precisely. She drew the dagger from her belt.</p><p>“The portals?” said Thalia urgently. She cursed herself for delaying it.</p><p>“Purple. Up. Blue. Out.” Riardon trembled.</p><p>“Where are they?”</p><p>“Hidden. Purple. Undercroft… to… mistress. Blue. In the temple.”</p><p>“Thank you, Riardon.”</p><p>Thalia wedged the point of her knife against the crystals. As soon as one popped out, the grey liquid stopped churning. His many odd limbs thrashed, his body bucking. Moments later, the creature who had once been Riardon the elf floated to the top of his jar and lived no more. Silence fell.</p><p>Thalia eyed the other jars, whose occupants still moved and, cursing herself, she released the others. Bodily resurrection was the sole principle of clerics, not wizards. Whatever twisted magical torture this was, it was several steps too far.</p><p>Imoen stared at Riardon’s jar in that odd way. Her face was empty, smoothed of all emotion or distress.</p><p>“Is he dead now?” she asked. Her voice still wavered. She stroked the foggy jar. “This pathetic creature… I know we’ve killed people, but… I did nothing but watch his life end.”</p><p>Thalia grimaced. “I’m sorry, Im,” she said. “But, I couldn’t do anything about those other prisoners downstairs. Least I could do was help these wretched lives.” She prised the last set of crystals from their holds and, turning them over in her fingers, tossed them in her pack. If they did manage to escape, she didn’t want Him to be able to start these people-picklers again. The gems were warm to the touch, foggy with impurities but beautiful.</p><p>Imoen’s lips parted as she stared at the jar. “Death is so… pretty,” she whispered.</p><p>Thalia whirled around.</p><p>Imoen gasped and scrambled backwards across the room, as though to distance herself from her own words. Desperate horror filled her eyes. “Why would I say that?” she cried. “Even <em> think </em>that? Please, Lia, let’s get out of here.” She hurried to her feet and fled the room, Thalia hot on her heels.</p><p>“Imoen,” hissed Thalia. “We need to stay quiet!”</p><p>At last, Imoen staggered to a halt and bent double. Her shoulders shook with sobs as Thalia hugged her.</p><p>“We just need some sleep,” she promised. “We’ll be alright.”</p><p>Somehow, Thalia didn’t quite believe her own words. She knew she barely held it together herself. Imoen was a step away from a meltdown she wouldn’t recover from. As Imoen’s cries rocked through her, Thalia felt her own resolve weaken.</p><p>But this was real. The escape, Imoen with her once more, the battle that threatened to take down the complex. Unless she wanted to die here, this was their only chance at getting out.</p><p>It would be so easy to lay down and wait for death to find her. She would welcome it as an old friend. But it wouldn’t be death. It would be Him.</p><p>“Come on,” she whispered. “Riardon said there was a purple portal that went from the undercroft to the mistress, and then a blue one by the temple to leave.”</p><p>Imoen sniffled and smeared her tears on her hands. “T-The mistress’s bedroom,” she said. “It must be close. It—”</p><p>A scream pierced through the nearby fighting. Rough, feminine, and filled with impossible despair. Jaheira.</p><p>Thalia didn’t dare to believe it. She had heard such illusions many times before. It wanted to lure her, to let down her guard. </p><p>Imoen had paled to the colour of spilled milk, but still she tugged Thalia with purpose.</p><p>“Im,” she said, “it’s not real. We need to leave.”</p><p>“It is.” Imoen led them through a set of corridors and opened a single door out of dozens.</p><p>The room triggered her memories in the worst way. Thalia’s knees buckled. Knives of all magical breeds and metals hung on pegs, to accompany the shackles dangling from the ceiling. Within, the corpses of impish mephites carpeted the floor. Wings and scaly skin broken by a hard stick. Thalia tasted the druidic magical residue of the battle won — fresh, clean, like the earth after rainfall.</p><p>All the shackles were empty, save one.</p><p>Jaheira had tossed aside her makeshift weapon and pawed around the walls of the room frantically.</p><p>“No, no, no,” she whimpered. “This is another illusion, a dream. Where are the mirrors, the switches, the pulls? Where is he? Where is my husband?”</p><p>Khalid hung in the shackles, dead for a great many days. His hair was still a ruddy brown, his skin a matching shade. He had been unusually muscled for an elf, a mark of his decades adventuring with the Harpers at his wife’s side, and the skin had been peeled back to show the musculature beneath. The space under his hanging body was stained with bile and flesh just taking to rot. His face had fallen unnaturally slack, a grey tinge overtaking his pallor and eyes.</p><p>Jaheira slumped against the wall. “Damn you!” she spat hoarsely. “Damn you! I will have the heart of who has done this! I will tear their blackened heart from their… I… I will…”</p><p>She collapsed her head in her hands and sobbed.</p><p>Thalia turned her eyes again to the lifeless body. Through the distant fog, she felt her heart ache at the sight. Khalid, who had taken her and Imoen when they were hopelessly lost. Khalid, who had taught her to fight with two weapons and skin a rabbit. Khalid, who now looked more skinned rabbit than half-elf.</p><p>Thalia’s throat choked. “Jaheira, I’m—”</p><p>Jaheira moaned. “Shut up! No more words! No more… No more…” At last, she managed to stand and she placed a hand on Khalid’s waxy, unseeing face. She stumbled through a prayer in Elvish. When she pulled back, Jaheira seemed to lack some of her signature grit, but she grabbed ahold of her makeshift quarterstaff all the same.</p><p>“We must hurry before we’re noticed,” said Thalia. Even if Imoen’s former point still stood about going solo, Imoen wasn’t in a right state. None of them were. It was the least she could do.</p><p>Jaheira understood. She summoned her courage with a deep breath and banished her tears. “We must get out of this… this grave… and seek the light above.”</p><p>“Can’t we try to—I mean, he has before—what if—” Imoen stumbled over the words with a whimper.</p><p>Thalia hung her head. Khalid had died twice before that they knew of, Jaheira once herself. Skilled clerics could return life, but only with everything intact. And shortly after death. Even Thalia could see in the open cavity of Khalid’s chest, several organs were missing, others succumbing to decay.</p><p>Jaheira’s lips trembled. “Nature allows the rebirth of many that have passed beyond, but there is… there is a limit, a time to… to let go.”</p><p>“Let’s not disturb his body further, then,” said Thalia. “There’ll be time to cry and honour him later.”</p><p>Jaheira nodded firmly. “That is the way of things. There will be payment for this crime, and I shall not rest until it is collected. When we are able, there will be…” She swallowed and wiped away thoughts of vengeance. “Enough. I would leave.”</p><p>As briefly as she could, Thalia explained the former elf Riardon and his advice about the portals. Jaheira blanched at hearing of the pickled men.</p><p>“I came across something very similar, in the deep basement, shortly before the portal took me up,” she said. “Huge glass bell jars, full of some silvery liquid, and within all floated the same woman. Dozens of her, identical as though twins. I had assumed they were dead.” She grimaced. “I hope they were dead.”</p><p>“Jaheira,” said Imoen in a small voice. “I just wanna say how sorry I am, about Khalid. I… I know this is hard.”</p><p>“No!” snapped Jaheira. She grimaced and continued in a steadier voice. “You do not know. This is not the time for this, child.”</p><p>“I’m not a child,” she said hotly. “Thalia and I are of an age and…” Imoen wrung her hands in her ragged pink tunic. “I can tell you Khalid did not suffer.”</p><p>Jaheira and Thalia started. It was clear to any who came across Khalid’s body that he had suffered terribly in life.</p><p>“What are you babbling about?” asked Jaheira. “I’m not in the mood.”</p><p>Imoen’s hands slowly fell to her sides and her face smoothed and slackened. “I saw Him do this,” she said in a faraway voice. “Khalid was already dead when He started on him.”</p><p>Jaheira’s face twisted in pain. “You saw this?” she whispered in horror. “You watched as it was done?”</p><p>“He showed me,” continued Imoen, as though Jaheira had not spoken. “He cut and spelled and… showed me. He forced my eyes and made me look as He—”</p><p>“Stop! I don’t want to hear this.”</p><p>“He said I should see, so I would understand. His body thrashed with every spell. He would cut and say, ‘Do you see?’ Cut and say, ‘Do you see?’ Cut and—”</p><p>“Shut up, child!” Jaheira shook with rage, her eyes shining. “Perhaps you had it right. It would be best for us to keep our distance.”</p><p>“Jaheira—”</p><p>But she had already stormed off. Imoen kept repeating it to herself, her eyes and voice dazed, lost in reverie. His voice. Cold and passionless. Clinical and utterly without mercy. Thalia had bore witness to many similar experiments. <em> Do you understand, Bhaalspawn? The connection between living and dead is little more than spark, a transplanal quirk of nature separated by anguish. Do you understand? </em>It had been a dwarf, unfortunately not dead. Her screams slicked the walls as He continued. He dug His hand through her hair, pointed her face at the struggling dwarf. She cringed. It wasn’t real. </p><p>The corridors blurred before her eyes. As they returned to focus, Thalia realised she had been crying. She scrubbed the tears away and pulled Imoen onwards.</p><p>They continued down the corridors, searching for something what might be considered a temple. The ceilings sloped upwards, the stones smoother and better maintained. Sconces appeared on the walls with flickering candles. Thalia flinched at the sight and struggled to maintain her composure. The maze of identical hallways and doors swallowed her sense of direction. Bloodstains and bodies of the same sort of assassin appeared at random, seeming to disappear the next time they came around. They could’ve been wandering in circles. Hadn’t they passed that stair before?</p><p>The fighting came to a sudden end above them. Silence choked the air, somehow more threatening than the sounds of explosions. Whatever battle had raged now had a victor.</p><p>Fearful of what that meant, Thalia hurried, finding more staircases to climb until, at last, she heard them. Voices. Grim and hushed, echoing against walls somewhere nearby, but men. Not Him. </p><p>A temple. It had to be. Gemstone mosaics cut through pearlescent marble floors. Sculptures and symbols lined the walls, their edges long worn smooth. The remains of several shattered golems surrounded a colossal statue of a crowned elf with his arms raised in supplication. A number of assassins inspected the grandiose statue, prying at the gemstones with their knives, and arguing all the while.</p><p>“Linvail don’t care who comes back. Just wants this debt settled.”</p><p>“Aye, least we can do is make this sacking worthwhile.”</p><p>“Keep your traps shut. We can pick through this place once he’s dead.”</p><p>“All of youse can shut up,” said one of them firmly. “We have company.”</p><p>The heads swiveled to see Thalia and Imoen at the entrance to the temple. The assassins took in the paltry sight and groaned.</p><p>“I don’t like this.” One of them spat at the floor.</p><p>“More blasted mirrorkin.”</p><p>Imoen held up her hands, pleading. “Please, we—we were just prisoners, downstairs. We aren’t His. We just—we just want to get out. <em> Please </em>.”</p><p>One of them cringed at the pitiful wail. “Yeah, heard it all before,” he said. “Three times, now.” He reached into his pocket.</p><p>Thalia pulled Imoen back, but she had already torn a scroll from her belt and sped through its incantation. A fireball the size of a cow hurtled at the assassins. A pair tried to dodge, but it was futile. The fireball smashed the grand statue to pieces and rumbled the ceiling. Once the dust had cleared, the men lay in pieces, glowing embers amongst the rubble.</p><p>Imoen staggered with the exhaustion of casting the spell in her state.</p><p>“It’s alright,” said Thalia. “Riardon said the blue portal was somewhere near the temple.”</p><p>Near but clearly not within. Aside from the wealth and decoration of the temple, it contained nothing of interest. Thalia jabbed at a few eyes and pulled on arms and symbols, but no secret passageways opened. Only a side door remained open to them. </p><p>The hallways lost their stately design, and fell back into the ragged slums of the lower basements. The stones became grubby and slick to the touch, the floors gave way to a narrow catwalk of grates over churning magical equipment. They were forced to step over bodies of the assassins as they pushed forward. Some had taken golems down with them, their remnants shattered like glass. Others were so recently dead that their blood had not yet dried.</p><p>Thalia had a horrible feeling they were chasing Him as He pursued the invaders to the surface.</p><p>The catwalk gave way to a tunnel sloping upwards. Unlike the halls, the tunnel felt natural and undisturbed, the rough rock and the low ceiling claustrophobic. Bodies across the floor thickened like undergrowth. Dim candlelight flickered over more and more corpses. </p><p>A dreadfully familiar thrum of magic hung in the air, seeping into her lungs. He was close. These latest victims radiated His magic like the warmth of a fireplace. Had she bent to inspect them, Thalia knew they would have not a mark on them. It would be as though they had simply dropped dead.</p><p>The slope steepened, their progress made all the harder by collapsed rubble. The ceiling rumbled and pebbles rained down. Thalia struggled to find purchase on the loose rock. The remains of a magical device sat twisted and mangled among the ruins. It still hummed with life. A magical light glared past it, deeper into the tunnel.</p><p>Imoen choked. “Sunlight.”</p><p>Thalia’s heart soared. <em> Sunlight </em>. It wasn’t magical at all. She squinted into the welcome glare and pushed past the rubble, Imoen close behind. Her fingers trembled as she struggled to make room for her to pass. It was so close. The horrors of the dungeon below wilted in the narrow beam of sunlight, washed away as bad dreams in the morning.</p><p>Even as she pushed through the battered tunnel, she was faintly aware of the sounds ahead of her. An explosion and the screams of frightened men. An avalanche of stone. A shockwave rattled through the tunnel. A rock fell inches from her face. Imoen shrieked behind her. Thalia couldn’t stop her teeth chattering long enough to calm her.</p><p>They had delivered themselves directly to Him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Candle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The fresh sunlight blinded Thalia. A vile taste in the air kept her on her knees, even as Imoen exited the tunnel behind her. His magic. As she blinked away the sunlight, the world came into view. They stood in a giant crater, loose with rubble. Thalia helped Imoen to her feet and they scrambled up the sides. Rings of flat stepped buildings surrounded them as though an arena. On the platforms, doors flanked colourfully woven rugs or ivy, but one side of the vast structure had been blown away entirely. Flames devoured carnival tents and market stalls across the courtyard. Screaming civilians fled the destruction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Him. He stood at the peak of the crater, still as statue and just as human. Imoen’s fingers dug bloody runs into Thalia’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They could get away if they managed to blend into the townsfolk, or disappear into one of the doors on the main floor. Summoning her strength, Thalia pulled them on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay.” He held up a hand, without looking. The small quiet command rooted Thalia to the spot with a fear greater than any magic. Her and Imoen lost their footing and skidded a back into the crater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wove His arms like a conductor. Without speaking a word, He delivered a gust of magic that lay them flat. The arcane blast roared past them to strike another. One of the black-robed assassins who had invaded his complex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You dare to attack me here?” He called. “Do you even know who you face?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spell hit and the assassin turned to stone at once. From the swirling crowds, more assassins stepped forward. More and more. Four, five, six. Ten. Fifteen. How could any stand against Him? Even think they had a chance? Each one found a terrible death moments later. Exploded from the inside, raining blood and flesh. Crumbled into dust. Struck by a lightning bolt. Several simply keeled over, none the wiser. One moment, alive. The next, dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The magic poured out of Him as a roaring torrent. Each spell completed itself without word or even component. Scarcely ten seconds had passed before the assassins fell dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Bhaalspawn,” He said, turning at last to face them, “you have escaped. You are more resourceful than I had thought.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the flatness of His voice, Thalia felt the rage in every inch of His powerful body. It summoned a mass of confusing visions. The bare edge of a knife scraping the side of her face. The shrill screams of a hundred voices. The candle, just out of reach. She couldn’t raise her eyes to His face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen scrambled to her feet. “You aren’t going to torture us anymore!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Torture?” He seemed amused at the idea. “You silly girl, you still don’t understand what I’m doing, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care. Let us go!” Imoen reached for the scrolls on her belt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Thalia could stop her, Imoen cast one of them. A quartet of pink bolts darted across the crater. He raised an arm and a swirling blue shield absorbed the </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic missiles</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t let you leave,” He insisted. “Not when I’m so close to — Not you cretins again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Six magical portals opened around him with a screeching of torn metal. The edges warbled briefly as six men in grey robes stepped forward. Their faces were all but hidden by their heavy hoods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is an unsanctioned use of magical energy!” one proclaimed. “Magic-users shall be held! This disturbance—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—‘is over’,” He said, a touch of annoyance disturbing His flat voice. “Yes, I heard the first time. Must I be interrupted at every turn? Enough of this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizards didn’t stand a chance against Him, but they were endless. Moments later, He was surrounded by the bloody remains of a dozen grey wizards and an army of stone statues. The wizards cast their own magics as best they could, but it was too clear they were unmatched. More portals opened for reinforcements. All it did was irritate Him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen pulled Thalia to her feet and they hurried up the last distance of the crater. A wayward spell struck the rock next to them, turning it to a scorching magma. Thalia slipped on it and fell backwards to the bottom of the crater. She began the desperate climb again. Sweaty hands couldn’t find purchase. Her muscles burned with fatigue. Another spell brought another stream of magma down the crater. It radiated heat like a roaring fireplace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you go anywhere,” He warned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia locked eyes with Him and it rooted her to the spot. In the glaring sunlight, the thick veins coursing over His face like spiderwebs looked to be white scars. Despite the rage He surely felt, His expression was as plain and disinterested as the golem, grey eyes empty and soulless. Arrogant, assured of victory. A set of unusual armor wrapped his body. Leather and gold, marked with magical runes and sets of crystals. His arms lay bare to allow elaborate spell-casting, but veins twitched in His thick muscles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He staggered as a wizard struck Him with a spell, but the wizard’s victory was short-lived. “Enough!” He shouted, as the wizard erupted in a geyser of flesh and bone. The warm, salty spray hit Thalia in the face. “I haven’t the time for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another set of twelve wizards appeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will—cease your sp-spell-casting and come at—at once,” he stammered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your pathetic magics are useless against me,” He said. “Return to your lives and let this end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if we fall,” said another wizard boldly, “our numbers are many. You will be overwhelmed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of any such foes overwhelming Him was ludicris to Thalia, but, in the silent lull of the battle, He seemed to consider the threat. At last, his nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well,” He said. “You may take me in, but you </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>take the girl as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” screamed Thalia. The word tore red in her throat. He was only biding His time. He would get her alone again, begin anew. The knives. The illusions. The candle, just out of reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizards nodded to each other. The bravest of the lot marched forward to grab Him firmly by the arm. One of them opened another </span>
  <em>
    <span>dimensional door</span>
  </em>
  <span> to step across the crater and dragged Imoen from the crater to her feet. He tore the scrolls out of her hand, inspecting them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s heart stopped. She clawed her way to the top ledge, her boots skidding on the gravel as she flailed ahead. “Don’t you dare!” she screamed. “Don’t touch her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” said Imoen, her face bone white. “No! I’ve done nothing wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have been involved in an illegal use of magic. Unsanctioned scrollwork.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” shrieked Imoen. She fought against the grip of the wizard. She turned to Thalia, eyes wide with terror. “I’m not going with him. Please, please help me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia lurched forward, but Imoen’s outline had already blurred. Her hand passed straight through her. A screeching roar of a dozen </span>
  <em>
    <span>dimensional doors</span>
  </em>
  <span> opened and closed, swallowing the wizards, Him, and Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Hours passed and the sun spun. Townsfolk calmed and put the fires out. They organised themselves. Bodies and parts of bodies were removed. Town officials and labourers had been dispatched to begin repair work on the hole He had blasted in the structure. They shooed her away, but Thalia couldn’t help but stare mutely at the spot Imoen had been. Her lips turned numb and cold. Eventually, they accepted she wouldn’t get in their way. They collected the transfigured statues He had left behind, and worked to clear the rubble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira. Khalid. Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minutes and hours turned the sun from high noon to dusk. And still Jaheira had not left the complex. Khalid was dead. He knew peace now, with the gods of the elves. Whatever tortures he had suffered, he was now released from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia could not say the same of Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen. Always made of rubber, a coiled spring ready to bounce back. A living ray of sunlight. She who had befriended a drow. Yet something in the last days — tendays — months had broken her. Watching Khalid’s mutilation, the tormented illusions, the ages without sleep or food. The candle, just out of reach. Now, Imoen was alone to cope with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia was alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By all rights, it should have been easier. Thalia had months of experience under her belt. She had led a party of mercenaries to clear the Iron Bandits of the Sword Coast. She had been declared a hero of Baldur’s Gate. She knew how to navigate the wilds, sustain herself with food and water, hold her own in a battle of steel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she was even in a city. A strange city, but a city. Not the treacherous wilds. Imoen still lived. She could be saved, rescued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s memories of the Sword Coast felt distant and cold. Had she truly braved the Cloakwoods? Had she broken out of the prison cells of Candlekeep? Had she battled mirrorkin, a godschild, a Rashemi berserker? She was so weak. Useless. Fragile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dusk darkened and brought with it a dire chill. The ruined marketplace and courtyards emptied. Silence gnawed at her, heavy with eyes in the dark. As the cold whipped at her ragged clothes, Thalia felt the first tears crack through the numbness. The physical pain of hunger and fatigue mated with her helplessness and guilt.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not  going with them. Please, please help me… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her shoulders wracked with sobs as she grieved alone and unwillingly into the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia put one foot in front of the other. Such a simple thing. It required so much effort. Her legs felt leaden, stiff from the day spent at the crater and days — tendays — months spent in the cell. Her mind barely processed the spinning world around her. Stucco buildings, crooked and close-set, grey in the gloom of night. Windows cast amber patches along the cobblestones. Taverns spilled joy into the street. Dancing, laughing, drinking, smells of food and beer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not for her. Not for her. She had no gold, not a single coin. The stolen pack hung on her back, but she couldn’t remember what weighed in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the black sky, people rushed through the crooked alleys and streets around her. Humans, brown skin and curly black hair. Halflings, pale and ruddy-faced. None paid her any note. She was invisible. The ragged clothes and thick layer of grime were better than any spell. The faces were excitable, as they moved from tavern to tavern or left work to return home. Such a common life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With chattering teeth, she pushed open the door nearest. A few minutes. Only a few, she promised. Then she would leave and go… She would leave, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warmth reached out with tender arms, even as the eyes of the patrons slid over her. The tidy cheer of an evening tavern hung in the air, but it was not for her. Music hummed from bards’ strings, but few danced. Chairs. Tables. Bars and stools. Not gleaming, but clean. Everywhere, unfamiliar faces and features. Dialects of Common milled around her, but she was far from home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The warmth bit life back into her fingers as she staggered against the wall. Thalia eased the pack from her stiffened shoulders and set it on an empty table. Bottles, some straggly pieces of metal, and a fistful of curious jagged crystals. No sword? She pawed at her belt and had a feeling there should have been a sword somewhere. Varscona? No, no. She had lost that days — months — years ago. She raised the strange bottles to her eyes, but she couldn’t make sense of the labels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she heard it. A voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dropped the battle and it shattered. The murky white potion seeped into the floorboards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sea of Common around her washed with an accent that pried at the edges of her mind. She might’ve known it, should’ve known it, must’ve known it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But another voice. Scarcely a few muttered words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heart racing, she whipped her head around, searching for the source. Everywhere, strange men and women. Uniformly black hair, meticulously curly and shiny. Browned skin and dark eyes with pronounced features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And again. The voice. Not Him. But it was male. It played with something in her memories. Familiar, not in a kind way. A wretched fear tensed her stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, eh, miss,” called the barman. “Inn is only for paying customers, no stones allowed.” His face held a professional smile, but his eyes stayed hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stammered out an apology. She itched to yell at him to shut up. The voice again. Small, little more than a scattered syllable or two. It came from the deep shadows, hidden under every table, out of the corner of her eye. She spun again, and found nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I cannot have the witch poison you with her lies… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You will never be able to outrun them… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want you to ask me… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Memories patched together from a hundred pieces, but she couldn’t find the concentration to make sense of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, miss, time to leave.” The barman came out from behind his bar. “There’s a temple to Lathander that’s open tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, just—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took her firmly by the arm and she struggled to summon a name, a face. He was here. Someone. The colour red glowed in her mind. Gold and rubies. The sound of clapping hands in a silent town.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I stand as the Seventeenth Nashkir of Conjuration, a Red Wizard of the glorious and ancient nation of Thay…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard. The wizard. The thrice-damned wizard. A Wand of Monster Summoning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dimensional door</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A permanent smirk of derision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice again. Heavy foreign accent, throaty and sneering. Murmured threats and malice. A constant mutter as he spoke to himself, a stream of insults in a murky Thayvian. Black eyes glittering with avarice and threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Quite a shame you insist on being quite this stupid… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Edward,” she whispered. “Edward.” His last name stuck in her throat. Too many vowels to say straight. That was right. It had to be. She turned again to the men of the tavern. Some of them seemed irritated as the barman marched her to the door, others amused. “Edward,” she called. More of the faces turned to her, snickering. A land of a thousand strangers. Conversation quieted briefly, before continuing on. The minor distraction had overstayed her welcome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come now, miss,” said the barman with a groan. “No need to kick up a fuss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia struggled against the barman. Her heart hammered in her chest. Outside, a million million strangers. A dangerous land, Him, death, and the gaping hole of Imoen. Within, a single ally. A face, a name she knew. Even if she loathed it. He had saved her life before. He would help her. He must.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Edward!” she shouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barman shoved her out his door. She stumbled backwards. Her tailbone and skull hit the stones with a bruising ache that rattled her spine. The chill seeped through her ragged clothes quickly and found her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t there. Of course. There was no one. Another illusion, fears and hopes painted by her mind to ease the horrible reality. There was no one. As ever. No one had come for them. None waited now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia winced as she made her way to her feet. New pains brought themselves to her attention. But, that was alright. Temple to Lathander, the barman had said. Temples were good. Clerics knew the goings-on in their domains. Perhaps she could find rest, food, information. This was a city. Walk enough in any direction and she was bound to run into a temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She limped to the left, keeping a hand on the rough stucco walls to support herself. The door to the tavern bled light onto the street as it opened. A man stood in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Edwin Odesseiron,” a snide voice started. “As I said before, ‘sir’ would be perfectly adequate, if you would prefer a less syllable intensive workout, as the minds of…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The insult trailed off as they stared at each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin. Aside from the ends of his tattoos trailing over his eyebrows, she never would have recognised him. Gloves and a shirt with a high collar covered most of the intricate tattoos that covered his body, but more striking was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hair</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A close crop of dark curls hid the intricate tattoos over his skull and a sparse patch of wiry stubble covered his face. Gone was the magical jewelry, gone the garish red robes. He looked little more than a day laborer, if rather slight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the voice. The dark eyes and pale skin pulled tight over a skull-like face. It was him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia staggered forward, breathing hard. She had never been so thrilled to see the awful wizard. Relief poured from the heavens and threatened to drown her where she stood. Blackness edged onto her vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They—They have—” she said urgently, but her tongue failed her. Breath wheezed through her lips, faster than she could swallow it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin held open the door. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. Amn is a wretched land, full of coin-counting superstitious—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They have Imoen,” she said at last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blackness took mercy on her and consumed her vision and mind completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When Thalia woke, she knew where she was. Another illusion. The edges felt frayed, the sunlight too bright, the hay-filled mattress too scratchy. But there was a blanket. Many illusions didn’t even have that. For now, she was spared. She pulled it over her head and savoured the peace, the warm air in her lungs. Her body ached, as ever. But she tuned it out. Sunlight filtered through the thin blanket, bringing a warm light to the moist cocoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She languished in the peace and pleasure of letting her overwrought mind fall blank and the gentle beat of her calm heart. There would be all of the Nine Hells to pay for it, but for now, there was peace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The creaking of a door snapped her to consciousness. She strained her ears as a figure walked across the floor. Closer and closer. Illusions held dozens of strangers, friends, foes. They spoke with His voice, moved with His hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the figure retreated and the door shut behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several minutes passed before her heart returned to normal. She lowered the blanket with trembling hands. On a small rough table, sat a bowl. Steam curled from it like candle smoke. It smelled delicious. Heady and rich with spices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia poked the spoon tentatively. It splashed into the broth. It didn’t turn into a snake, it didn’t scream, or fly away. A carpet of rice and greens waved. The golden broth was speckled with brown and red flakes, shining with bubbles of fat. Her stomach cramped and her mouth flooded with saliva.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would turn to ash in her mouth. Maggots writhing against her gums. Rotten sludge sliding down her throat with a life of its own, putrid to choke her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she so desperately wanted to drink it, feel proper food again. It would break the peace, but maybe if she could get enough in her it would be worth it. She tipped the bowl to her lips and drained it entirely. Warm, spicey, with chewy rice and wilted bitter greens. The fat smoothed down her throat and coated her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sighed and lay back. Screwed her eyes shut as her stomach cramped. Snakes writhed in her guts, fangs stabbing. He would be here any moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Time to begin once more, Bhaalspawn… </span>
  </em>
  <span>She was too weak. She couldn’t fight him. Couldn’t stand, only huddle under the raggedy blanket and breathe the moist air of her cocoon and wait for the next inevitable torture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hours and then days slipped by without leaving a trace of memory. Scattered fragments pulled at her, images and voices — important things. The illusion would lift. Possessed by a sudden feeling of purpose, Thalia would throw the blankets aside. A chill punctured her sudden bravery. She heard His calm, determined whisper in the rustle of the trees and dashed under the blankets once more. Imoen’s screams outside her window turned shrill and piercing, until they dissolved into the fighting of alley cats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had failed her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had set aside all sense of morality and decency, once, for Imoen’s sake. She had slain two Rashemi who traveled with them, who they had considered friends, in order to spare their lives. Imoen. Jaheira and Khalid. Viconia. It was all for nothing, in the end. Khalid’s body would dangle and rot from chains deep in the earth; Jaheira trapped in the madhouse and its endless tortures. Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Imoen</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The name was a prayer to any who would listen. Any who cared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia clung to His illusion. Every single thing was a new way to hurt her, to break her, to bring it forth. Imoen hadn’t been taken again. They had never escaped. How could they? The only safe place in the world was to lie still, scarcely breathing, soak up the quiet until He began anew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She drifted between awake and asleep. Often, she thought she walked from the barren room and found herself in Candlekeep, or in the duchal palace of Baldur’s Gate. The guards would nod to her, amicable, waiting until she relaxed before striking with knife-wielding tentacles. Thalia woke up in a cold sweat, rising through the levels of illusion. Back to the scratchy blanket, the tiny room. Peace. She waited for the blanket to strangle her, to bind her to the bed, or some unspeakable horror to fall from the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would not trust it. Would not crack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet. There was food. It appeared without fault. Sometimes cold, sometimes hot. The relief from hunger was too real. Most often, she awoke from another strangled nightmare to the heady smell of spicy stew. A cup of stale water and a pitcher appeared. Neither poisoned nor drugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dutifully, she ate. Her stomach strained and cramped at the richness, but it settled and the warmth that blanketed her mind nagged at her. No illusion had ever been so kind to her. But sleep stole her before she could confront the doubts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her buzzing wordless doubts became malevolent whispers, which continued well into the blackness. A small voice, hidden deep within. Always there, but tuned out during waking hours. A voice she heard more and more. Her sire, Bhaal. The ghost of the Lord of Murder, a shard of his divinity. A taint clinging to her soul. Many heard such whispers, she knew, as they played unwilling hosts to the fragment of the fallen god. Even so, it whispered to her with such intimate pride she couldn’t believe it would speak to another as such. It welcomed her with a soft caress. Words spoke of vengeance, of blood to be paid. The satisfaction of a battle won, the shine of lifesblood on a blade, the fading light in the eyes of her foes. The eternal silence. The blackness turned warm and comforting, wrapping her in its serenity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyelids strained against the seductive weight of the dreams. Sleep brought no relief. She lowered the blanket. It felt so exposed to bare her face to the room. The bowl of stew and bread had been cleared away, but nothing sat in its place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head spun as she reached for the clay cup of water. Warm and metallic-tasting, it wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t gloriously fragrant with spices or rich with fats and bursting with fresh juice. It didn’t overly tempt her or gnaw at her desperate desires. It simply was. It was water, tepid and tinged with the taste of a metal storing vessel. Common.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran her thumb over the surface of the cup. Rough, with the warbles of a potter’s fingerprints, the colour of unglazed clay. Common.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every aspect of every illusion snapped between extremes and left her without knowing where she stood. The gritty basement walls slicked with screams and icy shackles that dangled too high. The forest-smelling bedroom of gleaming furniture and a bed for a king. The feasting tables creaking under the weight of their bounty only to transform into oceans of fire scorpions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed the last of the water. Tears gathered behind her eyes. This cup was true. The water. The food. The wizard.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Imoen</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat up, fingers gripping the blanket tight. Every movement took a reserve of strength she didn’t know she had. A plan gathered. She knew what Imoen needed of her. She knew what Bhaal’s taint wanted. She swung her legs from the bed and squinted against the late orange sunlight. A blue dome broke the unfamiliar skyline of tall, square buildings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was a daughter of Murder. She could get out of bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever considered life as a sloth? You certainly sleep enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia spun around and steadied herself on the window. A mage in red robes, glittering with gold about the neck and fingers. Stark black tattoos of dragons and magical beasts turned over his bare skull, trailing down to his eyebrows and neck. Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some things change not at all,” he said with a smirk. “The potential of a Greater God, the focus of a prophecy that sends Cyric’s priests hurtling to their cups, dozens if not hundreds of children scattered across Faerun. Which one do I have the unfortunate luck to run across? The naive Sword Coast halfwit with the terrifying bearing of a kitten with a headcold and the common sense of a starved illithid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I — What?” she croaked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes examined her closely, with an impartial narrowness that made her skin crawl. The moments passed in silence and the last days… tendays… months filled in with a confused blur. The longer she met his cold black eyes, the more she thought of Him. The kidnapping outside Baldur’s Gate, the basement dungeon, the knives. The candle, just out of reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stumbled and collapsed on the bed, head fallen into her trembling hands. The screams of a hundred Gorions, a thousand Dynaheirs, a million Imoens. They rang in her heart, pleading with every word to stop, to bring relief. Their escape, the true Imoen at last, the pickled men, Jaheira, Khalid’s mangled corpse. Facing Him, losing her. The desperate despair, the pain of something being ripped from her chest as Imoen vanished with the grey wizards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I — need to…” Thalia shook her head. Her heart thudded with a terrible ache, as though to remind her she still lived. “I need a drink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are in an inn,” said the wizard dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swayed as they made their way downstairs. Few patrons lingered around the scattered tables and chairs. A dusky skinned maiden sat aimlessly behind the bar and, at a motion from the wizard, poured them two drinks with a distasteful look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia gripped the cup of yeasty beer until her knuckles shook. Along the back of her hand, bloody runs made by delicate nails stood white. Imoen. The cuts had healed, left pink. She drained the cup in one deep swallow. And then another. The wizard waited for her to speak, his drink untouched as he examined her. A candle flickered between them threateningly. She blew it out with a curse. The smoke drifted up. A stale burnt smell filled her lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Excellent. Now, do it again…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Imoen screamed, voice choked and warbling. Begging her to do it again. Anything, anything, to stop Him. Another scream, rising in pitch to a shriek that vibrated off the walls. Had it been her? Had it ever been her? It didn’t matter. Imoen screamed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m starving,” said Thalia with a grimace. She put a hand to her head as it shook with the noise. “Is there food? Where are we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a hesitation, the wizard clicked his fingers and said something sharp to the barmaid. Several silent minutes passed. The ringing in her ears began to ease when the barmaid came over. Half a loaf of fried dark bread, a plate of olives and dried fruit, and a bowl of some thick creamy paste with a knife stuck in it. Thalia’s mouth watered and her fingers shook. Nutty bread, crunchy. Fatty salty olives and gummy sweet raisins and apricots that stuck to her teeth. The paste was earthy and she slathered it on generously, full of lemon and garlic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she devoured the meal for two, her stomach strained and ached. Three drinks later, she became aware of the wizard eyeing her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know where you are yet?” he asked. His voice was determinedly even, but his eyes narrowed and he sat back in his seat. Kept his distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and raised an eyebrow at the chairs, tables, the barmaid. “Tavern. Nowhere close to Baldur’s Gate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Athkatla, capital of Amn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amn?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Sword Coast’s southern neighbour, Thalia had once been accused of being an Amnish spy. But it was a long journey from Baldur’s Gate — a month, with a caravan transporting prisoners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lip curled. “Now, you will tell me, by the glories of Thay, how did you come to escape that prison cell in Baldur’s Gate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s mind strained. That was tendays — months — years ago. A lifetime. She remembered the elaborate feast in the duchal palace, being named a hero along with Imoen, Jaheira and Khalid, and Viconia, a drowish exile. She remembered giving into a brief drunken nap, awaking in a terrible illusion where Bhaal hunted her, and slaying Duke Eltan’s small daughter. The resulting chaos. No cleric could revive the poor girl. The imprisonment, the interrogation. Her heritage had been kept a secret and she faced the noose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of the dukes’ boys broke me out in the night,” she said haltingly. “He played us all false, had been paid by… Him to lure us into an ambush outside the Gate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin raised his eyebrows. “And held you since?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s…” She swallowed as memories confronted her. “He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> and wants me for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A familiar and far too readable spark glinted in the wizard’s eye. Thalia’s breath rattled through her chest. Whatever alliance they had, it would be very temporary. Edwin had been sent by his order on the other side of the world to seek and capture Bhaalspawn himself. The Red Wizards had used the Bhaalspawn for rituals and conducted experiments on them. At the time, the thought had terrified her. The Red Wizards’ reputation preceded them, and Edwin did them no favours. But that was before. Then, Edwin had only been waiting for his superiors arrival when… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia closed her eyes and asked the question she dreaded most. “How long has it been? Since… Since we were captured?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eight months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answer washed over her. Eight months. More than half a year. Two hundred and forty sunsets. They had once had a plan. Imoen, her, and Viconia were to buy a patch of land out east, with the crops and animals to make it worthwhile. A place to find peace, bury the past, a break from the painful road. Eight months could’ve put them a season into harvest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Impossible, now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed heavily and blinked away the dead dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to know what he did,” she said, forcing her voice to stay even. “But you must know what he’s capable of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her great surprise, Edwin sat back and waved an impatient hand for her to continue on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia told him of the great battle against the black-clothed rogues who had broken into the complex, of the corpses that seemed to drop dead. She told him of the explosion and struggle, if it could be called such, against the grey wizards. The statutes and piles of blood and bile that remained. He listened in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have stood a chance,” she croaked. Despite her best efforts, it filled her with despair to think on her future, on Imoen’s. “No one would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard drummed his long fingers on the table, deep in thought. The rhythmic drumming irked her, grinding on her frayed nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you stop that?” snapped Thalia. Her voice broke with a cry as she slammed her cup on the table. “Just — I need… I don’t know what I need.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above all what she needed was help. Even she knew a wizard such as Irenicus was legions above Edwin’s league. She needed Elminster for such battles, or… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew what she needed. She loathed it. Whatever was left of the girl who had grown up within Candlekeep’s walls screamed against it. But that girl would never see Imoen again, would be forced to abandon her to Him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard sat with an unnatural stillness as she met his gaze. She watched a plan fall together behind his eyes, but was under no delusions. It wouldn’t be for her benefit. The dark eyes gave her the unpleasant feeling Edwin could read minds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence broke her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t face him, as I am,” whispered Thalia. “Neither can you — and don’t flatter yourself. I-I need to… become more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what of Bhaal’s legacy? Are you still looking to toss it out, baby and bathwater, now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fists clenched uselessly against his words. “Murder’s legacy is… filthy. Under no circumstance do I want a part of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Save </span>
  <em>
    <span>these </span>
  </em>
  <span>circumstances,” he said slyly. He reached for his drink. “It gladdens me to witness nobility fall to at least a semblance of practicality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need your help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin smirked. “Whatever do you mean? Shall I conjure the pink brat out of thin air or—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped mid-stream, his mouth still forming its next word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without breaking eye contact, Thalia had lit the candle between them with a touch and a burning pain in her fingers. She flailed deep and scratched the top layer of Bhaal’s divine reservoir. But she knew it was leagues deep. She had felt Irenicus’s exploratory magic probing into the taint she carried so unwillingly as he forced her to use it. Again and again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once, she had cursed Edwin out for suggesting she put the divinity to any use at all. Whatever magic it created, she had only done so at the edge of death and for the simplest parlour tricks. It was capable of so much more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slow, terrible smile spread across Edwin’s face. “Teaching you, returning Imoen to you — that’s a very large favour, especially from a learned master. A wizard such as I has important duties—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will owe you,” she said. Thalia attempted a glare, but it fell apart almost at once. She had cursed and threatened the wizard, held a knife to his throat. He had matched her. But the awkward silence of the last tendays settled over her and lingered in his eyes with a smirk. He had enough respect to not bring it up. He didn’t need to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She already did owe him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once this is said and done, you will owe me any favour of my choosing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Sea of Corpses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>An entrance hall of tawny marble, dotted by pillars and alcoves featuring statues of nameless figures. Red mosaics of strange circle insignia crossed the floor over. Braziers of smokeless green flames lined the center path. A crowd of wizards in heavy grey robes were all abuzz, quiet but uneasy. The vaulted ceiling reflected their whispers, multiplying the heavy atmosphere. Uncertain. Expectant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors flew open and a score more grey wizards walked in, guarding a pair of prisoners. The prisoners were contained so thoroughly in swirling magical shields that it appeared two giant blue marbles had rolled in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the guards stepped forward. “These are the prisoners from the disturbance at Waukeen’s Promenade, for your consideration.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A ripple wove through the other wizards. One distinguished himself from the others and examined the marbles closely. “What is known?” he asked coarsely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naught but their names,” the guard said. “The male is Jon Irenicus. The female is Imoen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The marble to the right began to cry. “I didn’t do anything,” it promised. “It was Him, all Him. I was—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silence, girl,” the left marble said in a familiar emotionless voice. “Let them make their judgements. It will matter not at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia struggled viciously against the bonds that held her fast in the dream. She opened her mouth but not a sound left her. She strained but couldn’t draw breath. She had no lungs, no mouth. She was less substantial than mist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard narrowed his eyes. “Why was the male not gagged and chained?” he asked. “Did he not slay dozens of you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guards shuffled and exchanged looks. The answer was plain enough: they dared not push their luck once He had agreed to come along quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the guards coughed. “What should be done with them, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard waved a hand of dismissal. “They are deviants,” he declared. “Let them rot in Spellhold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No — Please, you have to understand,” began Imoen again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet, girl,” He warned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A spell rattled the braziers and the blue marbles vanished in a poof of dust. A set of </span>
  <em>
    <span>dimensional doors</span>
  </em>
  <span> opened and closed with a screaming whine to swallow the guards, and the entrance hall was quiet once more. The remaining wizards talked grimly amongst themselves, their voices serious but indistinct. Whispers tormented Thalia as she strained to listen. The whispers continued well into the black of a restless sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mornings remained difficult, but a pattern filled in. In the groggy moments between sleep and wakefulness, Thalia reached out with her hands and ears, confused. Imoen always slept nearby. If not in the same bed, then in the same room. But, no snorting snores, no tangled mess of red hair and pink nightclothes. Weight of the last days pinned Thalia to bed. Those moments were hardest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Months imprisoned had left her weak and slow. As her energy returned, so did her determination. She threw herself into her exercises to rebuild her stamina. The taint powered her and she felt her strength return unnaturally quickly. Over a matter of days, she returned to her former strength — and then surpassed it. Subtly. One push-up here. A hardness in her muscles that shouldn’t be there. As soon as she noticed, she stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breakfast was solitary. A table with her back to the wall and a scarcely touched plate. The inn was quiet. Only a pair of harmless old men sat by the fire with strong-smelling coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia mouthed the words to herself to commit them to memory. Every day that passed was another day Imoen was held captive.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What is known?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Naught but their names. The male is Jon Irenicus. The female is Imoen…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled an olive slick with brine between her fingers. Dreams had long troubled her. Bhaal’s taint was persistent and growing stronger, as more of those who carried it perished. Faraway lands, strange faces and feelings that didn’t belong to her, but to other Bhaalspawn. Vile nightmares and a malevolent voice in the dark. It wasn’t until she had told the Red Wizard of them that they begun to make sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever He had done to her, it was worse than she had first thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had not only probed Bhaal’s taint, but used it. Attached Himself like a leech. The divinity reached out to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They are deviants. Let them rot in Spellhold... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“If your mind has softened so as to resemble the remains of an illithid’s former meal, I would bear you no ill will. Rather, I would appreciate the reprieve and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia rolled her eyes as the noise washed over her. Without a word, she brushed past the wizard. While he had once kept his distance during their travels, Edwin now made it clear how much he loved the sound of his own voice. She glanced back to keep an eye, but none followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Red Wizard took the rickety chair next to the window. A precarious stack of books and scrolls overfilled the table in his room. Thalia took the tentative seat opposite. She played with the candle flame in a melancholy sort of way. With each relighting, the pain of using the magic diminished. The action became reflexive. Easier than yesterday. Easier than the day before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While your privileged birth grant access to innate manipulation of narrow forces, they remain vastly inferior to the storied learnings of a true wizard. A sorcerer blunders through the arcane arts, enforcing a will he does not understand with methods far over his head. To a wizard, deep understandings of the Outer Planes and the true fabric of the Weave must be gleaned over many years of study before—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have many years,” said Thalia. Sparks leapt from the candle flame to bounce on the wood. Her voice felt rusty and dry. It was the most she had spoken in days. “And I am no wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin scoffed and took her newfound voice in stride. “Hardly worthy of any title of magical merit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irenicus won’t be afraid of a candle,” she said. “And Imoen won’t wait any longer—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you call your kidnapper?” A tone of surprise entered the wizard’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irenicus,” she repeated. She stifled the hope the rose in her. “Jon Irenicus. He and Imoen were thrown — or sent to Spellhold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin fell silent and turned his attention to his spellbook. A palm sized book of battered leather, stamped with the symbol of the Red Wizards. He flipped through the pages without purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might not be able to kill Irenicus with magic, but I can still throttle you if you don’t tell me—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the glories of Thay, there’s no need to resort to threats,” he snapped. “Let us just say… the cost of my services as a wizard — an already insurmountable expense — has just gone up.” He muttered to himself, not taking his eyes off the spellbook he stopped turning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia considered making good on her threat. But, of course, he could simply up and leave. While he wanted to drag her back to Thay with him, her cooperation wasn’t a matter of life or death to him. Not as it was with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is Irenicus?” she asked with more patience than he deserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ ‘The Shattered One’,” said Edwin at last. “It’s Elven, but no elf would take such a name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t look much like an elf.” Thalia remembered the powerfully built man. A tight leather cap clung to His head, concealing any hair or ears. Still, He had been on the short side. The voice could be elven. Thick, creamy, melodic. And if He were an elf, that could mean centuries dedicated to magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regardless, should he find himself in Spellhold, his blood will not matter,” said the wizard. “The wretched Cowled Wizards will keep him safely behind bars. I dare not jinx fate, but, as none have escaped for nearly three centuries, I doubt my word will make much of a difference.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imoen will,” said Thalia shortly. She still felt the spray of blood from the eruptions of organ and bone as Irenicus had dealt with the grey wizards. It didn’t fill her with much hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin glared at her. “Magic and all forms of spellcraft, save that worked by those sworn to a sanctioned faith, are officially outlawed in Amn. Any disturbance in the Weave will alert the Cowled Wizards—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would wizards go around locking up other wizards?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin looked at her as though she were particularly simple. “Competition. Control.” A smile reeking of greed lingered in his eyes. “Are you having dreams again, godschild?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia bristled. “Might be.” She held his eye until he tutted at her and dismissed the matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In any case, this returns us to the concern at hand.” Edwin took on a voice not unlike the long-winded monks of Candlekeep, though that was likely more an insult to them than him. “Spellcasting, as pertains to any who attempt to harness such a craft, is the exercise of enforcing your will upon an unwilling world…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ground her teeth together. As the days wore into her, so too did the words. The theory crammed into her head until it felt ready to spill out her ears. While she had stumbled over a scroll he had written and conjured a rabbit for the trouble, she felt no further along. All the talk of will and the power within made her feel more than a little sick. Every day she lingered in the inn was another day Imoen was held captive. Imoen, once strong, lively Imoen, already fractured and deeply hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen,” she snapped. She stiffened her lip against a tremor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard blinked in surprise at the interruption.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to be able to match Irenicus by sending a swarm of rabbits after him, or sitting a theory exam. I need to be able to </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. I need to send an — an </span>
  <em>
    <span>eldritch shockwave</span>
  </em>
  <span> or </span>
  <em>
    <span>Planar destruction</span>
  </em>
  <span> or… or…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The weight of her words pushed her head into her hands. Tears spilled through her fingers. It had taken her months to summon the martial skill to challenge Sarevok to avenge Gorion. Imoen couldn’t wait months. Gorion had had the benefit of being dead. Imoen would be waiting, she knew. Day in and day out. Tendays. Until she believed no one would be coming. Thalia didn’t even have a sword, armor, allies. Nothing that had helped her defeat Sarevok, and so much more rided on her now.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t frighten me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where’s Imoen?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The distant words, half-remembered came to her. An early stand against Irenicus when she first awoke. The unfamiliar grit of metal bars between her knuckles, when she still believed in a life that may return to normal. The bleak coldness in His voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t mean to frighten you. I mean to break you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And He had succeeded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s shoulders shook. He had broken her, killed whatever remained of the girl from Candlekeep. All she had to do was sweep aside the ashes. Whatever was on the other side, she knew, wouldn’t be pretty. To step into the shadow of Murder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take it.” A scrap of cloth fluttered before her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A delicate shame rose through her throat as she took the handkerchief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard sighed with exasperation. “Consumption and corruption are genuine fears among most all new students of the arcane,” he continued as though she hadn’t dissolved into tears before him. “Whether it is the Weave or an internal reservoir, the personal Will will protect you. You command the power. It enforces your desires. Not the other way around. Belief in your own strength is the most foolproof protection there is against the hungry threads of a magical source.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia wiped the tears from her face and chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something amusing?” asked Edwin dryly. “Does your own </span>
  <em>
    <span>noble</span>
  </em>
  <span> heart not fear corruption from the source of your powers? Say, the ghost of the late Lord of Murder?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Believe in myself and all will be fine,” she repeated with another wet chuckle. “From you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his face held no humour. A smooth mask, unruffled by her outburst. There wasn’t the judgement or mockery she expected. The same stern posture and superior raised chin. Thalia staunched her tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Few sorcerers contain power of the like to challenge the Weave,” he said. “Talented wizards devote scant years of study to surpass the accumulated lifetime of a mundane sorcerer—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have years,” said Thalia wearily, to cut down his long-winded speech.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pursed his lips against further mutterings. “Obviously not,” he said. “Sorcerers reach the ceiling of their powers, as it were, in their own time. A number of months, or even years—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still don’t have years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flashed in a way he likely thought dangerous. “If you would learn a modicum of respect for your superiors, you already would learn what I so graciously thought to teach you,” he said. Edwin stood and snatched his spellbook with white knuckles. “If you’ve no interest in listening to me any further—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t go,” she said. She bit back the desperation that rose in her chest at the unfinished threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat again with a grimly familiar glint of smugness in his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorcerers reach their true potential with a single word,” he said. “Practice.” He savoured it as she swallowed the implication. “Practice it in combat, utilize it during daily life, and the pathways of your mind and soul will wear down to accommodate the power.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia knew he was right. She had felt it. The small action of lighting a candle had become reflexive and painless, even only after a few days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As such,” he continued, “there happens to be a singular individual who might serve as a human practice board. It seems my prowess as a mage has captured the eye of the Cowled Wizards. I’m certain they are envious, though their actions are not fitting tribute. They have dispatched an agent to investigate my activities, something I don’t appreciate — especially considering my present circumstances. This insult must be punished by killing the agent. We might even question him beforehand. Any insight into the secretive Cowled Wizards is useful. A little torture would soften him. There—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I look like I’m in any fit state to do mercenary work?” asked Thalia incredulously. “And I’m going to ignore that comment about torture, for your own sake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Odd. Given your lineage, I would’ve thought you capable of anything.” Edwin scoffed and rose. “As you have regained your wits, lingering in a tavern in the cesspool that is Athkatla will hardly improve your condition further. You must sharpen your skills, hone your powers. As you said yourself, you do not have years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brushed the scrolls aside and inspected the hidden pockets of his robes for spell components — as though he were serious about heading out to deal with this Cowled Wizard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about armor? Weapons?” she stammered. “M-Me against a powerful wizard agent? That’s— That’s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re beginning to sound like that druid’s clumsy husband,” said Edwin with a mean laugh. “Khalaf? Candai?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Khalid.” Thalia swallowed the guilt. Jaheira’s mournful scream echoed down the halls of her mind. “He was a great man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A halfbreed, a stumbletongue, a—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t insult the dead. Not to me.” Her voice shook and weakened, even to her own ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin’s eyes washed over her. He nodded in acceptance of the rebuke and dropped the subject. “I would rather risk someone seeing us leave his house, than grope blindly through the black streets at night. We will leave shortly,” he said with a note of finality. He swept a hand as to direct her from his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still don’t have any weapons,” she persisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm,” he ordered. “And leave me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia paced across the barroom, hands wringing. She was being an idiot. Nothing lurked in the shadows of the alleys. Irenicus, for now, was in the custody of the Cowled Wizards. This was the real world. People, generally, were kind, if not disinterested in strangers. There was nothing to fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thought again of the black rogues who assaulted Irenicus’s complex, of the shadows that grew from the trees eight months ago. There was plenty to fear from strangers. She was only being rational.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world outside — even if Edwin accompanied her, even if the sun still shone — was a dark and lonely place. Full of unknowns. A strange land full of strangers, each one full of their own motives and dangers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, she couldn’t help Imoen from within a single inn. She placed her hand on the handle and suppressed the trembling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to leave without a weapon? My, we’re feeling brave this afternoon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taunting voice made her jump. Edwin took his time coming down the stairs, but handed her a sword and leather belt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia took it wordlessly and slid the top few inches out of the sheathe. The iron was heavy, the edge sharp but mundane. Not prime castle steel, but decent. It felt a touch too long in hand, but a weapon it certainly was. Dangerous. It made her feel secure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She belted it on and nodded her acceptance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it?” he demanded. “No pledge of service? No undying gratitude? No—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll get it when Imoen is safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a single step, she pushed the door to outside and flinched at the broad sunlight. The streets were much deserted, the population all at work or play. Urchins and beggers crouched in the darker corners of alleys. Thalia kept her eye on them as Edwin led them on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What of armor?” she asked. Armor was little help against mages, but she felt exposed without a layer of something over her. “What if the mage summons something more than a rabbit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin scowled. “Let the conjurer deal with the summons. Your primary purpose is to exercise your… abilities, miniscule as they are, and to deal with the aftermath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lackey</span>
  </em>
  <span>, thought Thalia, but she grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The city of Athkatla twisted much like Baldur’s Gate. New districts built next to old as the city grew, leaving the mark of age behind. Bleached stucco buildings became a maze, but Edwin clearly knew his way. The array of taverns and craftsmen were fast left behind, replaced by a dingy towering street of warehouses. Rough hewn stairs led downwards into a dock, where dozens of fishing boats tethered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia blinked at the blunt order. “What was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin smirked. The balance of power had shifted. Once, he had persistently followed her, weathering her threats. Now it was her turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll wait,” she said shortly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wise move.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he left her alone, she refused to call out for him. Loneliness threatened her with terror. She wouldn’t. Not to him. Not like that. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Thalia crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. Above her, a balcony cast a deep shadow — but was there anyone there? She glanced several times into the alley next to her. Each time, she found no one. Turning her head, she feared the other three directions. She didn’t have so many eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gaze landed on the docks. Sailors unloading barrels and crates. They sang and joked among themselves. Unfamiliar accents and melodies. One kept turning to look at her. Did he know her? Her heart jumped in her throat. Irenicus had a whole secret laboratory under Athkatla. Why not have agents — hidden, ready to strike—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia jumped and growled. The man seemed to have appeared from nowhere. A monk, in black and purple robes. The cowl shrouded his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grunted and shuffled away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strong and silent. The Black Sun looks fondly on that. Have you ever considered worship of the great Prince of Lies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ignored the missionary in hopes he would leave. Cyric was a new god, born from slaying Bhaal among other divinities. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The missionary bristled. “Very well. I must say, this is not my typical tactic, but the lord my God has given me a holy mission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To bother strangers in the street?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To convert the masses.” The missionary rose a hand to paint his picture. “Fear the Sun, for its light is Black and gives no quarter. The great Prince of Lies touches each and every moment. There is not a second where mortals do not lie or deceive. Peace is a lie, though a pathetic one, as it prevents greater strife from taking root. To kill is to send life unto him. Death is to return to his might. Bow before the Supreme Throne, for those who worship him shall live forever in the Grey Marshes. Take hold of your destiny—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take hold of your tongue, if you don’t shut up,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The missionary jerked back. His hand twitched towards his pockets. Thalia grabbed him by the front of his robes and dragged him into the alley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-N-No. Please, no. I’ll leave you be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who sent you?” She slammed him against the wall. “Was it Irenicus? Talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only the Prince,” he gasped. “His Most Supreme Holiness knows everything and, in his wisdom—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I say if you don’t shut up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The missionary yelped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In need of a little warm-up? You only had to ask. I might’ve supplied greater targets than that gutter vermin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin’s voice dragged her backwards. Thalia released the cleric of Cyric and he scuttled off in a hurry. She glared daggers into him, then turned them on Edwin. The wizard thrust a bundle at her — a loose chainmail shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I much prefer this dim-witted barbarism to catatonia, so long as you may acquiesce to a modicum of control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better be meaning self-control and not yours,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin smirked, but didn’t answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia rebelted her sword on her waist. The mail shirt pinched with its folds. It must’ve been made for a much larger man or to be worn over padding. She’d rather some leather or plate on top, but it would do. If some fiendish beast thought to claw at her, it would have a little more trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m curious,” said the wizard. “How did it feel to watch the light fade from your brother’s eyes with the killing strike? Sarevok. I’m sure you remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced. “It was a necessary means to an end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sniffed. “There is no place for friendship or compassion in the theatre of gods, as I am sure you are beginning to learn, if not understand.” Edwin gestured to a stately house near the docks. “The agent retires here. Prepare yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, you think we’re enough to deal with him?” she scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In spite of her sneer, Thalia felt her heart jump. Edwin was arrogant, but a lot of power backed that arrogance. If they truly were enough, perhaps rescuing Imoen from Spellhold wouldn’t be that troublesome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is a novice in his order, a Rayic Gethras,” he said stiffly. “I have done my reconnaissance and you should know well I do not play dice with my own life. You are valuable so long as that taint stays right where it is.” He jabbed a finger at her chest, which she swatted away. “I’ve no use for your corpse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twisted, but makes sense.” Thalia crossed her arms, deliberately ignoring how he spoke of her like an object.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you had two braicells to rub together, you would’ve already figured—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin entered the house first. She didn’t miss the key he produced from a pocket of his robes. He was not nearly so confident about tonight as he appeared, if he had waited for her to help him. Thalia took her borrowed sword in hand. All was quiet on the main floor, not even a fire in the hearth. It was clear from the neat kitchen and single chair that Gethras lived alone. In that, Edwin had been correct, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Psst</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glared as Edwin clicked his fingers at her. He gestured up the stairs, for her to go first. The floorboard creaked under her and she winced. She hesitated, straining her ears, but nothing came. Proceeding more slowly, she kept low to the ground as she reached the second floor. A cluttered homey study, filled with books and odd metal devices. Gethras scribbled at a desk and hummed, his back to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia reached by instinct, but there was no throwing dagger at her belt. Despite the mail and longsword, she felt naked. She glanced to Edwin, who waved her onwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gethras seemed engrossed in his work. She centered herself best she could and reached. The power evaded her. It didn’t know what to do and she didn’t have the faintest idea how to direct it. She imagined dragging Gethras backward, as though a rope around his neck. She imagined white-hot rage, against him and his order, for imprisoning Imoen. She imagined fireballs, and shockwaves, and enchanting his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sweat inched down her forehead. Thalia managed to keep herself quiet, but shook her head to the wizard. No good. He scowled, revulsion and impatience clear. She rose her sword and stepped up to the second floor. Gethras would die today — just not by the powers of Bhaal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gethras turned as the floorboards creaked again, shock written across his face. He stumbled to his feet, back to his desk. His eyes narrowed as they glanced past Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thayvian,” he growled. “I should’ve expected you, Red Wizard, or, should I say—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A powerful force threw Gethras against the wall, as a scroll burst in a loud white flame in Edwin’s hands. A bookshelf split, books spilling in an avalanche as delicate instruments tumbled. He struggled to free himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin dusted the remains of the scroll from his hands. “Your turn, worm. I could’ve utilized the advantage of surprise any time these last months. This opportunity is not to be squandered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grit her teeth and knelt next to Gethras. Torture wasn’t her thing. She might’ve intimidated bandits, but she had never put blade to someone without intending to kill them. The taint could be worse than any blade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gethras stopped struggling. His eyes widened as she gripped him by the front of his robes. She thought of the candle back at the inn. A flicker. Wool burned under her fingers. Blackened and charred. Her grip ripped a massive hole in the grey robes. The edges smoldered as embers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia fell back, panting with exhaustion. Lights spun in her eyes and her very bones ached with a sharp pain. The pain spread through her, resting behind her eyes. She sniffled and wiped the blood that leaked from her nose. And ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was so far. So far from being… anything at all. Baldur’s Gate seemed so far behind her. She was back smacking wooden dummies with blunted swords — but unable to do anything that made so much sense. She knew how to train, how to condition her body for martial battle. Many did. How did anyone condition their mind like that? Attune their soul to the spark of evil divinity?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen depended on it. And Thalia was pathetic at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gethras’ laughter brought her back. She burned with shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What sort of useless apprentice—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A heady wave of magic settled over her — oppressive and silent. Like the air filled with wool. Thalia opened her eyes. Gethras still laughed, but the spell had muted him. Edwin extended a hand, a spiral tattoo around his wrist glowing before it faded to a pale scar. He inclined with his head. Even if this was a task for him, she understood, this was a gift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia wrestled Gethras. New books toppled from above, hitting her in the back without a sound. The muteness was eerie, but she was thankful for it. She grit her teeth and wrapped her hands around his neck. Blood dripped hot down her face. It splattered across him as he struggled. She thought of the flame. The skin reddened, peeling like a bad sunburn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gethras thrashed soundlessly, uselessly. His throat worked under her hands. Thalia tightened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unbidden, she thought of another. Malek. A mercenary whose hands she had simply… rotted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been an accident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sharp pain in her own bones grew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hands sunk into the soft flesh of his neck. Too soft. Too deep. A viscous bloody sludge oozed from his mouth. Light dazzled in his eyes. Her fingers closed on the spine. Skin blackened, withered, the flesh peeling back, veins and tendons drying to brittle husks. It wasn’t a burn. It wasn’t frostbite. It stunk, like a corpse left in the sun for days. Tendays.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gethras fell still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia settled back, breathing hard. She met Edwin’s eye unflinching. He didn’t judge — how could he? He watched Gethras with something almost like lust in his black eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>silence</span>
  </em>
  <span> spell fell with a deafening noise. Dockworkers unloaded crates, shouting and singing. A gang of stray cats yowled. Her heart beat. Hard. Her breath sounded afraid, even to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My hands are full of… full of…” Her fingers trembled, but she couldn’t bear to look at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Decayed viscera.” A smile tweaked his lips. “Tissue of the lung, shriveled beyond necrosis. Flesh and muscle—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m gonna vomit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will be severely displeased—” He sighed as she doubled over. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>severely displeased. You have managed to not even meet my exceedingly low expectations of you. The daughter of the god of murder ought have a stronger stomach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia couldn’t even wipe her mouth. Much as she tried, she couldn’t scrub away the slimy blood and worse. The sour ache in her throat and mouth, combined with the smell of Gethras, turned her stomach again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do this,” she panted. “I was wrong. This isn’t me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make up your mind and don’t waste my time. Commit to your path or don’t, it is no bother to me, but I will not abide whining. And I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> motivate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grit her teeth. It wasn’t that bad. She had gutted bandits before, left them for the crows and sun. She knew how bodies died, how rot touched them. The taint was no different than a sword. A tool she could learn to use. At a distance, hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabbed for Gethras’s robes and rubbed her hands and face mostly clean. Satisfied, she stood. Edwin seemed surprised at her composure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded to the corpse. “Dump him in the sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Broad daylight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin scoffed. “Stranger things have happened in this cursed city. Get to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be pursuing the late Cowled Wizard’s abode, searching for what may pique my higher interests.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Burglary.” She smirked. “Bit beneath you, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since I’ve only one underling, I will do what I must. Now, go to your appointed task.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced, but picked Gethras up and slung him over her shoulder. With a sickening wet sound, the head detached and hit the ground. The horrid smell assaulted her again. She picked the head by the mostly untouched hair and retreated downstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Edwin promised, the dockworkers didn’t think much as she threw the headless body — and then head — into the sea. It bobbed before following the south current. Minutes later, it was a distant speck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was always the darker side of the profession, she knew. Many favoured the term adventurers, but Thalia knew what she was. Mercenary. Sellsword. While many noble causes might hire mercenaries, many more nefarious ones did. The Red Wizard certainly counted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun began to set, turning the sea a bright orange-pink and then wine dark. The streets darkened, but none bothered Thalia any longer. Maybe the scent repelled them. Even above the salt and stink of fish, Gethras left a lasting impression. A crowd formed on the lower courtyard, excitable but fearful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heard Edwin before he leaned against the wall next to her. He dropped a rucksack at their feet, bulging with stolen goods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next time, try to limit your blundering damage from the more rare and expensive Weave instruments,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted, narrowing her eyes. The crowd had grown again. All local townsfolk, in cotton against the still balmy heat. The fountain they circled was dry, but had been piled with timber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” asked the wizard waspishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” she said, stepping down to investigate. He didn’t follow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no time. We must return to the inn. My… compatriots will need to hear news of Gethras’ defeat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ignored him. The crowd called out to one another, but one voice rose above the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look all upon this foul drow we have bound before you! A creature of most evil and darkness, brethren. A creature of foulness and deceit, bent only on our own destruction.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man stood on the fountain’s ledge, spitting rage. Another, far smaller creature had been bound to the fountain’s pillar. She stood on the wood, her purple obsidian skin slick with oil. White hair dripped like moonlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This… thing,” spat the man, “has so foolishly come amongst us, thinking we would be lax in our vigil. What should be done with it? Tell me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd called in a dozen voices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had known a drow once, fought at her side. While coarse, she had been a fine enough person, even considering the horrible folktales of the under-elves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye, the drow shall </span>
  <em>
    <span>burn!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gather round, brethren, and witness the will of Beshaba triumph over foul evil!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man reached for a torch and held it high. The crowd cheered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin had reluctantly followed her. “Has Gethras not yet soothed your bloodlust?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignored the jab. “Are they really going to burn an elf at the stake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you care?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elf screeched and struggled anew as the man wafted the torch threateningly close. “You rivvin are mad, I tell you,” she cried. She sounded near tears. “I have done </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> to any of you. I seek only to make my way past without molestation! Why are you doing this? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had never heard the voice twist quite like that. But it was impossible to mistake. The noble arrogant melody.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd booed and chanted for her to burn. The man shouted, but couldn’t restrain peace. He called on Beshaba to watch the sacrifice. And the drow cursed or prayed in her own language, to further ridicule.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my elf,” said Thalia, struck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shoved her way through the crowd. Each step was a struggle. They weren’t willing to let her pass and, more than once, she thought she glimpsed a knife. The flash of silver sent her stomach plummeting, but she forced herself to steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia cried out again. “Shar, why have you forsaken me? My faith has never wavered!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia gave the last man at the front a particularly vicious push. He fell, hard. The crowd had begun to realise she wasn’t one of them and closed tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viconia,” she shouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia started. Her red eyes reflected in the dark like mirrors as she spotted her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man with the torch whirled around. “What is the meaning of—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia drew her sword and stepped up to the fountain. The blade sat very satisfyingly on his neck; the fire shimmered on the steel like gold. “In five seconds, I will kill you, unless you run. I will not give chase. Those are five seconds more than you deserve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beshaba—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Four.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An evil and foul—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three-two-one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia slit his neck. The blood poured, a waterfall only newly freed, and he collapsed. She grabbled for the torch before it hit the tinder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd turned into a stampede in their haste to flee. Some of the stronger-looking ones hesitated, teeth bared. Thalia stared them down. Her own blood ran hot in her ears, still itching for a fight. She didn’t want them to run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Licking her lips, Thalia reached. Deep and then deeper still. Bhaal’s taint whirled like a maelstrom inside a thin shell, but she couldn’t break it, couldn’t command it. Yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe they saw something. Maybe they didn’t fancy their chances. The men ran.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they disappeared down a far alleyway, Thalia tossed the torch to the cobbles and turned her attention to Viconia’s bonds. The ropes parted easily, but she struggled to stand. When Thalia offered a hand, she snarled, recoiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I owe you my life, abbil,” said Viconia reluctantly. “You have saved me. Once again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mention it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia, at least, let Thalia help her down to the streets. “I swear, I did nothing to provoke their attacks! I was merely passing through the city when the man guessed my identity. They declared me a drowish spy and — everything happened so fast. They are quick to fear, these rivvin.” She spotted Edwin. The wizard was hard to miss. “You.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me,” he said cordially. “A reunion of sorts seems to be in our future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bleak future, one I wish had never come to pass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pleased we are on the same page,” he mused, “though I would rather that page not be in Amn, let alone Athkatla.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia looked down her nose at him, a great feat since she stood at less than five feet. “Refreshing change, to hear a male speak sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ushered them into Gethras’ newly emptied house before another mob could spot a free-roaming drow. It felt peculiarly untouched, not at all like the house of a man who had been killed not an hour ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help yourself to anything,” she said. “Find yourself a scarf or covering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia hesitated on the stair. “It would be both a privilege and an honour to join you again, Thalia,” she said sincerely. Her uncanny red eyes shone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no need to ask, Viconia,” she said quietly. “You’re always welcome with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soft words rebounded off her like light on a mirror. “I am sure a spirited campaign and pitiless slaughter of our foes await.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia collapsed herself into a chair at the kitchen table. Taking a rag, she cleaned her recently bloodied sword. Again. There always seemed to be so many people in need of killing. Edwin didn’t sit. He paced, inspecting the house he had already picked over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got something to say?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The drow is… a striking creature.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Striked you once or twice that I remember.” She smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Struck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” corrected Edwin. His voice lowered dangerously. “And she shan’t again. Her hands and tongue must be kept to themselves, unless their minstrations are of a more pleasing disposition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want to try and bed a drow, be my guest. You’ll probably be more pleasant, once you’ve been castrated.” Before he could argue, she stood and belted her sword. “I’m gonna go drop the other body I made in the sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the second body drifted away, Thalia had to admit things were looking up. It only reflected on how hopeless her life had turned that meeting a drow, a Red Wizard, killing a commoner and a government official, vomiting and decomposing a body with her bare hands could be considered looking up.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Distant Goal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(Almost) all the gang is together. Great. Few hot notes first, for the non-canon or non-video gamey things.</p><p>AD&amp;D's rules about clerics not using bladed weapons is dumb. Anomen wants to LARP as a knight, so he's getting a longsword. I've also always played with Viconia as a cleric/assassin.</p><p>Generally, in a video game, gear is swapped around so often it's dizzying. Everyone here has their equipment getup.</p><p>Jaheira = studded leather armor, quarterstaff</p><p>Yoshimo = leather armor, katana, bow</p><p>Edwin = cantrips/spells (look me in the eye and tell me he uses a sling)</p><p>Anomen = chainmail-&gt;plate, house shield, longsword-&gt;shortspear</p><p>Thalia = chainmail-&gt;half-plate, longsword+dagger</p><p>Viconia = black leather armor, shortsword, hand crossbow, knives/poisons</p><p>Haer'Dalis (in a bit) = melodic chainmail (infernal, instead of elven in canon), Entropy+Chaos shortswords, bardic spells</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>None might’ve expected elsewise, but Viconia could only approve of Thalia utilizing Bhaal’s taint. She had a different perspective on magic, but was loathe to give away Shar’s secrets. However, after hearing of how Gethras met his end, she offered the suggestion of practicing on living plants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a cutting of vine, Thalia sat on the floor of her room, as Viconia bathed and sought her own armaments. After nothing happened for several minutes, Edwin threw up his hands and stormed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Left alone with her own beating heart, it still took hours to find. But Thalia was patient. She took no meals, not even a drink of water. Locked in the focused state, she willed and commanded the stubborn plant to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>die already</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Two nights later, it shriveled. All at once. Greenery withering to blackened husks. Before, she might’ve called the pain excruciating. She had newfound limits for how she categorized it, but it still made her cry out. Her head pounded and blood dripped from her nose and ears. Gritting her teeth, she attempted to reverse it. Long ago, she had brought Imoen back from the brink of death by mere accident. The headache grew. Blackened leaves faded to green, leaves opening across the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia entered, just as the vine began to flower. She raised an eyebrow. “Can’t imagine Bhaal is a healing god. Much like Shar, their powers are better used elsewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bhaal isn’t a god. Not anymore.” Thalia’s ears rung numb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What spheres of power would he dominate? Death? Retribution? Shadow? The grave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She winced at the loudness of Viconia’s voice. Below, the inn burst with strange drinking songs and joyful laughter. She had half a mind to go yell at them to shut up — if she could stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is overlap,” continued Viconia. “Gods each have their own spheres of influence, though no followers of two gods will cast their spells alike, even if the result is identical.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need a ritual,” she muttered. It was more than she wanted to confess to anyone. The taint was a primal part of her soul, something she carried unwillingly that she knew others would kill for. She didn’t need components or even vocalizations in strange tongues. No hand wiggles or dance moves. Nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ringing began to lessen. Thalia grimaced as she set the plant aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still haven’t told me of your goals, in pursuing this divinity,” said Viconia. She had a cool, sharp voice. “Last we met, you would rather have let us all die than use it. Don’t get me wrong. I’m pleased for you, that you have made the correct choice. Discarding weapons is foolish, but what prompted this revelation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t let Imoen die,” said Thalia blandly. “I’d rather use it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I noticed the rather pink-shaped hole in your company. What of the insipidly cheerful one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rose an eyebrow. “We were friends once, Viconia. Imoen adored you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia laughed, bitter and harsh. “We were never friends, rivvin. Allies, yes, but drow do not have friends. Respect your place, as I will mine. Now, I assume this mission you mentioned pertains to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia was too exhausted to argue or bother hiding how that hurt. “Imoen and I had been captured by a powerful wizard these last eight months. He and her have been arrested, in Spellhold, a mage prison here. I mean to kill Him and save her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia crossed her legs. An expression few would call a smile crossed her lips. “So, shall you scour the land and strike quickly? Put him under the pain you felt under his knife? I remember the humiliation you visited upon he who killed Gorion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tensed. “I wouldn’t call Sarevok’s death a humiliation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Warrior males consider any defeat a humiliation.” Viconia stood and inspected the remains of the plant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t want you thinking anything wrong. This is more a rescue mission than a quest for vengeance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed, until she realised Thalia was serious. “Is the girl truly worth all this bother?” she asked, incredulous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t leave her anymore than I would leave you to that mob.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dark shadow passed over Viconia’s face. “Very well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door tipped open and the wizard stepped through. Thalia had long stopped bothering to tell him to knock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with me,” he said curtly. “I might have a lead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What with?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin’s lip curled. “While you have been exercising a black thumb, I’ve been scouring the vast networks of contacts and information at my fingertips. I have set a meeting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She checked her sword and made to follow. “Are you coming?” she asked Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia had washed and kitted herself. Better, at least, than Thalia had bothered. Something about being nearly lynched and burned at the stake had sent Viconia running to the nearest weaponsmith. She kept a shortsword and hand crossbow on her at all times, a knife belt strapped to her chest. The soft black leather armor, she sometimes removed. The veil and scarf, she didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None accosted them along the way, as Edwin led them through the city. The streets were curiously empty. The moon hung low in the sky still, but while taverns were fit to bursting, those loners who did manage on the streets moved with their heads down, hands in their pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never known a city to lack beggars,” said Viconia dryly. “Is it a plague?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it’s a solid community infrastructure and rigorous temple charity,” offered Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even with the conspicuous lack of beggars, it was clearly a destitute slums. The streets fell into disrepair, the houses little better. A pervasive scent of unwashed man and beer flowed through the streets — among other things. Mangy dogs fought over domain of a crooked alley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A… war, among the two powers of the localized underworld,” said the wizard. “The Shadow Theives, a traditional sect involved in racketeering, assault, and smuggling, is being challenged by another. Beasts under the guise of men, judging by what little shredded remains are left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sold Gethras’ house to the Shadow Thieves,” said Thalia as they walked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmph.” Edwin stopped in front of a house. “It appears you do have two brain cells. Unfortunate they are not a breeding pair. In.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced at the ramshackle house, but nothing else could’ve distinguished it. She entered, hand on her sword. She felt better with Viconia and Edwin at her back. The house looked just as piss-poor inside. And dark. A lone lantern flickered dim light across the stained floorboards. Plaster walls peeled and cracked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man tried to spark a fire in the hearth, but swept up with a sudden grace. He had a boyish face with a smile that left his eyes cold. “Coo! Mr Wizard,” he said, “it’s good to be seeing you again. Able to find the humble home? Begging my sorries.” He stepped forward and extended a hand. “Gaelan Bayle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ignored the hand. “You had something to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You first.” His tone began to match his eyes. “Light that fire. And don’t you go calling the Cowls on us, eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced to Edwin, who nodded shortly. He had told them. What, exactly, she didn’t know, but it was already too much. Scowling, she stuck a finger into the dry tinder. A spark caught. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bayle waited with bated breath, but it became clear the Cowled Wizards wouldn’t appear. “Huh. You actually did go tell me the truth. Maybe you’re right. Fair goes, mate.” He knelt and added logs to the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since I’ve been hired for a job I know nothing about—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You be hired for nothing, missy. It’s a — uh — a business arrangement, eh? You hire us.” Bayle stood, dusting his hands off. “Telling you it straight, I represent some powerful men. They can be finding your sweet lost maiden. And the wizard with a fouler temper than this one here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Helpful,” she said, narrowing her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bayle rose his hand, a sharp fluid motion that made Thalia jerk for her own sword. “Good, good, it’s all helpful. Requiring us to be crossing them Cowls is… expensive and a very unique skillset. You ain’t finding it anywheres else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What will you cost me, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A princely sum, but think on the danger. It’s fair.” He nodded eagerly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stepped closer. He was taller, but slender, a twig in the breeze. His eyes and smile hardened but he didn’t back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the cost?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twenty thousand. Gold, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sharp intake of breath felt like a knife. She sneered. “If I had twenty thousand, I wouldn’t be looking to hire gutter thieves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bayle tutted. “For the sake of Mr Wizard’s mean temper, I’m be forgetting that. What I’ve heard of the mighty Hero of Baldur’s Gate, you’ve spent as much before and will again. Athkatla’s a city of bounty hunters. There is work for all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She growled. By that time, Imoen could be long dead. Even now, tortured, experimented on. Worse. The thought left her weak in the knees. She locked her joints and glare. “What will a bounty pay? A tenday or two of work for two, three hundred coins?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not our problem,” he whispered. “Twenty thousand, our aide on the table. Going once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lower it. It’s impossible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twice.” He rose an eyebrow and his lips parted again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine!” she snarled. “I’ll — I’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bayle beamed. “Ah, Mr Wizard did say you would. Small sum when pretty little lives are at stake.” He forced Thalia into a handshake. “Now, I might be in touch again, in case we be needing each other’s expertise. Believe me, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> lowered the price.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They left Gaelen Bayle, Thalia’s ears burning. She patiently counted to ten, as Gorion had taught her. It did little. She focused herself on the inn, back in the docks, the semblance of privacy—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabbed Edwin by the front of his robes and pushed him up against the wall. Viconia took a hearty step out of the way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard rolled his eyes. “Unhand me, at once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you tell them?” she hissed. “Did you tell them about the taint? What did you say about Imoen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silence, you idiot.” Edwin tried to pry her hands off him, but she didn’t relent. “I went pleading your case. Don’t complain because you didn’t like the manner in which I sold it. Find another wizard to tolerate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do they know about me?” she asked in a low voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They believe sorcerers can’t be tracked by the Cowled Wizards,” he said stiffly. “I simply… did not correct them. Such whoresons are rare enough they cannot authentify it another way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted her reluctance, but let him down. “Twenty thousand? That’s… a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He quoted me forty. Think how many kittens rescued from trees and maidens from dragons that might’ve been.” Edwin’s smirk almost became a smile. “You are lucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky,” she repeated bitterly. The luckiest woman on the Sword Coast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were stupid enough to want to be a hero. Want to raise my low opinion of you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t care what you think, but there’s no shame in trying to help people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard groaned. “Heroism is the bend of those people obsessed enough to want to save the world and too stupid to realise it never wanted to be saved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia didn’t even bother trying to reply. She pushed away his words, but they came back to her, sticking like burs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The final tally will surely be more than gold,” said Viconia, as they returned to walk the streets in the slums. “If they seek a sorcerer, they will have plans for one. And, now, they have leverage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it,” said Thalia dully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped. The narrow side street, the worn and muddle stones, the way the gold light filtered down the sorry street. Lost to the memory of the night, she struggled to drag herself back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, this is where you happened upon me, afore I moved us to the docks. As I said, worm, you are very lucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia steadied her hand and opened the door. She could see clearer, but she didn’t. The Copper Coronet. Vagrants and vagabonds. While they appeared just as happy, she hadn’t remembered them looking so rough. Many wore armor and weapons. The rest simply wore weapons. Not noble longswords or crossbows, but short gruff daggers. A dice game came to blows, fists and curses flying. An army of armed strangers, hard in the eyes, quicker to the blade than her. Her heart pounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you doing in a place like this?” asked Viconia with a hint of amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not your concern, drow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet!” said Viconia hastily, but none could’ve overheard him above the din.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was it. Thalia knew it. A city with work for mercenaries, bounty hunters, sellswords, working for anyone with coin. But hells, she had hoped to avoid such a life. Would a life be better as the victim of Him? Scared and alone in a dark cold world that cared naught for her. Not that Edwin or Viconia cared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look for work,” she told them. “Anything that pays fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia left them and ventured to the bar. The patrons felt the newcomer and parted with narrowed eyes. The bartender didn’t recognise her — how could he? She had been a husk here last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye, what can I get you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A cider. And work for a sword.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bartender thought on it and passed her a glass. Two copper shorter, now. The drink was spicy, fragrant, and strong. Thalia drank deep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lots of work for mercenary companies.” He rose an eyebrow. “What sorta work you looking for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking for coin. Much as I can, fast as I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled and reached for a dirty rag to wipe the counters. “Who isn’t? There’s this girl, what come in sometimes, high-born little thing. Tips in gold if you tell her stories of life in a gutter.” He tapped his temple with a smile. “Don’t tell the same one twice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t. Anything more substantial?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Temples got some issues with a heathen cult. Wouldn’t be surprised if Talos’ cleric would pay well to see it go north.” He clicked his teeth. “Not everyone wants to work with Talos, though. Gets messy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll survive,” said Thalia blithely. She tensed as someone new sat next to her, but he didn’t pay her any heed. Just another stranger. Her eyes roamed his face, memorizing it. “Thanks for the help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before you head,” said the bartender, “check in with Renal. Make sure his boys aren’t looking to this cult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia drained the rest of her drink and stood. “And I should know who Renal is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s heart leapt into her throat. Fear flashed through her, but the word wasn’t shouted at her. Still, it was a voice she knew well. Through the throng of patrons, she spotted Jaheira — honey blonde hair braided, armored, armed with a quarterstaff — stalking up to Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit,” she muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Jaheira a friend of yours?” asked the bartender. “She’s a hard woman — doesn’t have many of those.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither do I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia groaned, making speed through the patrons. She couldn’t believe she was about to come to the wizard’s rescue. Viconia was nearby, though, hooded and veiled, could be mistaken for a halfling or short elf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You!” cursed Jaheira again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard sighed. “Yes, of late, people do seem to be very good at identifying me. Remarkable, that voice still thinks to command those above it, when all that it is fit to command are shrubs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your memory is selective, Red Wizard. Nature and her warriors do not take kindly to insults.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaheira!” called Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira had kept up a steady stream of curses, though she silenced. She turned. “Thalia,” she said breathlessly. “You survived.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry to disappoint.” Thalia held her guard. Khalid had been the one to restrain Jaheira always, to soften her blunt edges. Jaheira had once abandoned Thalia and Imoen — quite understandably, but warm feelings were few and far between.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Disappoint?” asked Jaheira, hurt. She reached out a hand, to put it on her shoulder or hug, but Thalia lurched away. “I’m so glad you’re still alive, child. I heard about Imoen, but no one knew about a second survivor of the attack at Waukeen’s Promenade.” She sighed, a rattling breath. “Come on, let’s share a drink and forget this wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s eyes slipped behind her to Edwin, who smiled in a very satisfied way. “Actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be kidding,” snapped Jaheira. Her yellow eyes flashed, but they didn’t scare Thalia anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He could be useful,” she said quietly. “He’s sworn to help us get Imoen back. We have… a lead, of sorts. There’s also Viconia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira whirled around, laying eyes on the shadowed elf. “Very well. I’ve no objections to her joining us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not in any place to have objections,” said Viconia coolly. “You may help us or you may go. I, for one, will not sorrow to see your back again, halfbreed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No insults. None of you.” Thalia’s eyes lingered on Edwin, but he only shook his head. “Jaheira, let’s share that drink. We’ve much to catch you up on — and, remember, at the end of this, where Imoen is, also will be the man who murdered your husband.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that,” said Jaheira stonily. “Why else would I put up with this arrangement?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait until you’ve heard the rest of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira was just as pleased with the Shadow Thieves’ offer as Thalia had been. Even less, she scorned it and drank her ale bitterly. She had spent the last tendays navigating the dense magical bureaucracy of Athkatla, attempting to free Imoen by circumstance. Tendays of trading forms and audiences with magisters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s gotten me nowhere,” she spat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said before Harpers do not always operate on the side of the law,” said Thalia pointedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They wouldn’t help.” She waved a hand. “Dodging a law is different than a prison break.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me, druid,” said the wizard with a smirk, “how does it feel bearing life ties to a ruthless secret society whose stranglehold over its members’ conduct borders on indentured slavery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira bared her teeth and gave him a hateful look. “An oak staff can cave a skull from only inches away,” she said sweetly. “None would mourn your passing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll be a party,” muttered Thalia into her drink, but Edwin, thankfully, didn’t hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harper corridors clot with blood of those who dared raise opposition against their oppression,” he said with a wave of his hand. He stood. “But, I will speak no more out of respect for your… what was it again? Ah, yes, your little stick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira’s eyes bored twin holes into his retreating back. Thalia hoped he went in seek of Viconia, who would gladly remove his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No Harpers. Extorted by the local criminals.” Thalia kicked her chair back on two legs, crossing her legs on the table. “What do we have then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A goal,” said Jaheira, determined. “If a distant one. I’ve been splitting time here at the Harper’s Hall, though. Not working. I’ll send a letter to some old friends. Maybe the lord of Waterdeep will remember I saved his wife some years ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No high lord will part with twenty thousand for a remembered job,” said Viconia with a laugh. “I’m sure you were paid for your work at the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you suggest?” asked Jaheira, her lip curling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Find work. And get busy.” Thalia drained the last of her drink, blinking back the hopelessness of it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man slid into the bench next to Jaheira. He had a wide smile set into a broad brown face and a gleaming mane of black hair. “Ah, Jaheira, have you given up on your paper-pushing? Are you ready to put the Great Yoshimo to work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira groaned in exasperation, but it didn’t do a thing for Thalia’s glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard you.” Thalia turned to Jaheira again. “Who is this clown?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clown!” repeated Yoshimo, outraged. “I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yoshimo, Scourge of Athkatla, dashing gentlemen rogue, and…” He sighed. “Jaheira said the same, that the legend had not spread northward. No matter. It will soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not about fostering your legend,” said Thalia bluntly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye.” A glint wrinkled in his eyes. “A sister, Jaheira says. So happens, I, too, know what it means when a sister vanishes. And I, too, have a red debt to settle with Irenicus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The name chilled her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found him, trying to get his way out of our prison,” said Jaheira dimly. “He’s a bounty hunter — supposedly a good one. If we’ve such a task, he might prove useful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye, though </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> will be an understatement you will see in time.” He stood in a fluid motion. “Come, let me refresh your drinks!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo left with another charming smile and their empty mugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does he know about me?” asked Thalia in a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. And this place is not a friendly one,” said Jaheira. She reached a hand over again and Thalia let her have it. “Be wary of who you deal with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can deal with cutthroats and vagrants,” she said, though she couldn’t suppress the feeling that rose from the implicit worry. So long alone, it felt good to be cared for again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not just them. Others may try to take advantage of your circumstance. Few know, but that makes you all the more valuable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia jerked her hand back. “Don’t you think I know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always remember what you are—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard to forget.” Thalia stood and fixed Jaheira with a hard eye. “Don’t think to lecture me on what you can’t understand. And don’t speak to me of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia didn’t wait for an answer. She bounced right into Yoshimo, whose smile dipped lower. He pressed her full mug into her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t look so angry!” he said with a laugh. “Your face might stick like that one unfortunate day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glared and brushed past him, settling herself on the stairs behind a throng of people. The upper balconies had their share of patrons, but few came down. Thalia drank and forced herself to relax. There was nothing more to do tonight. Perhaps visit the temples and ask Talos’ priests for a job, or prod about a man named Renal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira’s warning that there were others — other Hims — dug into her like a knife, jagged and sharp. She knew the Red Wizards would hunt her. In fact, they did. How many other nefarious organizations sought her blood? The Shadow Thieves? Their enemies?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair lady, what brings you to this cesspool of corruption?” asked a haughty voice behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia jerked. She hadn’t felt him approach. The man was half-armored, like most, in padding and chain, though his tunic bore an unfamiliar noble sigil. He had the features and shiny sleek hair of a little lordling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of your affair,” said Thalia, returning to her drink. “And you must well be blind to think me any fair lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All are fair until proven elsewise by their speech or manners,” he said. “Anomen Delryn, at your service. I am honour-bound to protect all from corruption and evils. This place cultivates both. Be you an adventurer, seeking others of like mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He settled down on the stair next to her. Close. Thalia froze, her drink half-way to her mouth. He was taller by far, thicker and stronger than her. Her breath hitched. If this was a trap, she was well and truly had. He wore a polished longsword — a beautiful gleaming weapon, sharp as sin surely, in a leather sheathe. He need not be human, either. Her captor — Him — had employed mirrorkin, stealing faces from memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My lady?” he asked, puzzled. The strong features folded in concern. “May I have your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia,” she said blindly. “Candlekeep, of—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truly?” He smiled, wide and charming. “Well met. I’ve been searching for storied adventurers and heroes for some time. Though Baldur’s Gate is quite some ways, your tales spread even here — though I am sure many are exaggerated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’ve you been looking for me?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen seemed oblivious to her fear. “One like you. I seek to be knighted in the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart, and I must prove my worth. Have you need of a strong warrior, my lady?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart leveled out and she considered her drink. Was it so far-fetched to think some lordling’s son might’ve heard about the Heroes of Baldur’s Gate? Word traveled. Even if Yoshimo’s hadn’t. Lordlings wanted to prove themselves. Strangers, while strange, were largely absorbed in their own affairs and kind. She knew it to be true, but it tasted like a lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright, my lady?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ran a hand down her face. “Thinking. It’s been… a long few months. Your offer is very conveniently timed, I must say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it?” Anomen’s smile of sparkling white teeth grew. “Excellent. Tymora smiles upon us, then. What manner of quest do you find yourself about to take upon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hunt a powerful wizard who has wronged me,” she said haltingly. “His name’s Irenicus. I’m afraid there will be great danger and a long way to go. Till then, I will be taking mediocre jobs, whatever may pay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen stood and inclined a short bow, offering his hand. “I am sure the foul wizard deserves whatever horrid fate lies in store for him. Anomen Delryn shall fight alongside you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keeping her disdain to herself, Thalia accepted his hand and stood. “I’ve a few friends with us. One’s a Harper, another a common bounty hunter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He beamed. “A magnificent and storied organization, though the local hall takes not recruits at the moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another is a… powerful wizard of troublesome disposition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wizardry does have its drawbacks, including the softening of the social faculties, though there are uses to the craft. Very well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The third is a drow. Will that be a problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen frowned and ruffled his feathers. “I shall not be the cause of problems, though I shall finish them if begun. I trust that is acceptable to yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed. “Fair enough. I’ll probably be staying here, for now. If you hear about any such jobs that pay well, come find me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By your leave, my lady,” said Anomen, with a slick and elegant bow, before strutting away like a particularly pleased rooster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if Thalia didn’t have enough to worry about with Jaheira about to strangle the wizard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was going to get tiresome. In fact, it already had.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Circus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was another wakeful night. Though Bhaal hadn’t troubled her dreams for a while, now, Thalia instead saw Imoen every time she shut her eyes. Chained, abused, starved, beaten, tortured. Tears streaking down her grimy face. Around her, the cell rumbled with the force of a magical battle. Men screamed. She shivered. It was so realistic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heavy hearted, Thalia slid from her bed and curled in the dark corner. The scratches on her hand had long healed. Imoen’s nails had ripped the ragged skin bloody, but all that remained was a pale scar. She stroked it. Her eyes held no more tears to fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia did not often pray. In Candlekeep, prayer went to Oghma for the libraries and studies. As she learned swordsmanship from the guards, she gave Helm his due. She knew shopkeepers who prayed to Mask to ask his thieves to leave them alone. Sailors offered Umberlee sacrifice to temper the rage of her seas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Thalia, the gods had never been particularly helpful. Upon learning she carried a spark of divinity, however small, they had felt even more distant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sunlight trickled past the cloth drapes, soft. Outside, the city began to awake, streets cluttered with voices. Beams crossed her pale hands and they shook as the light violated her darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shut her eyes and whispered for Illmater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crying God… I know you aren’t supposed to help the Bhaalspawn out, but, please, take this away. That’s what you do, right? Take away mortal suffering? You did already, letting me fall into the foggy delusions until I could face it. Thank you. Truly. But, now I need you again. Let me sleep. Let me trust the shadows again. Let me know you will bulwark Imoen from the worst of this — even if you didn’t before. I can deal with my powers, with this impossible goal, but not with this pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia waited. And she waited. All she had to keep her company was the thuddy beat of her heart, aching as though to prove she still lived. And her memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the hollow minutes turned to hours and the sun crawled across the floor, the weight began to ease, but something told her it had nothing to do with Illmater. The gods were forbidden from interfering with the Bhaalspawn. She was on her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Distracted, Thalia dressed and armed herself. She checked the sword reflexively as she meandered downstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira waited for her, arms crossed. “I thought we could talk a little, you and I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have their own shopping to do. Already there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced, but followed. It was never a good idea to argue with Jaheira when she wore that face. They left the Copper Coronet and, after several streets, the slums behind. The sight almost stopped her heart. Waukeen’s Promenade, Jaheira called it. Rows upon rows of sun-bleached stone gleaming in the light in a great open market ring. Even early, customers haggled eagerly. Stalls sold street food, shining sharp weapons, pottery, and lucious fabrics. In the vast open center, a magnificent tent of red and yellow patches advertised wild creatures and illusions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was where He had made his last stand. The remains of the assassins and Cowled Wizards had been cleaned away, but nothing could disguise the gaping hole. The horror below gripped her. Twisting tunnels, jars of pickled men, the cages and knives— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright, child?” asked Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia bristled. “Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’ve all the world of Athkatla open to us,” she said with a sigh. “What course are we to take?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A smith,” she answered, dragging her mind to the present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I rather meant more of a moral persuasion. As a druid, I’m charged with keeping the balance of nature and…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira didn’t finish her obvious thought. Thalia wouldn’t do it for her. She strode past the nearest shops, searching the symbols for something that might be an armorer. Jaheira followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moreso, I’m curious of how you’re coming to terms with… it. Finding the right path will be important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The path is my own,” snapped Thalia, but she regretted it. Acknowledging Jaheira only spurned her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” she said coldly, “but others will bear the pains of the outcome. I will bear witness. Imoen, as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought sobered her. Jaheira couldn’t know she echoed the sentiment of Tamoko, Sarevok’s once-lover. Watching her Bhaalspawn lover deteriorate into the taint had crushed her. Thalia long resolved to not condemn Imoen to such a fate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a Harper,” added Jaheira in a tight voice. “I’d hate for us to end on opposite sides of the coin.” She paused, uncertain. “Do you mind telling me what happened in Baldur’s Gate? With the duke and his—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need some armor. Leather. Padding. Something to put under this hellsdamned chain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira rolled her eyes sharpish but led them to a shop on the lowest level. The shopkeeper recognised the Harper and wanted to catch up. A number of enchanted weapons hung, chained to the walls. The aura tickled her fingers. Imoen would’ve tried to steal one — she had loved her little flaming dagger. All their gear, of course, had been long lost now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shopkeeper directed them to an armorsmith, who spent time getting Thalia’s measurements, promising they would sew the leather and linen by the end of the tenday. Even so, Thalia inspected the vambracers and greaves. The gloves fit well enough, she figured. And she’d need a helmet. Loose, with enough padding to soften the steel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This must be a terrible time — and a worse memory I’m bringing up,” whispered Jaheira, trailing her. “Still, if I am to travel with you, if we are to take this on </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m short on coin,” said Thalia. “Pay the merchant, would you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t keep dodging me,” she snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not dodging. I’m ignoring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She put a hand on Thalia, turning her towards her, but Thalia gripped it hard on instinct, muscles tensed to fight. Jaheira’s shocked eyes stopped her. With a grunt, Thalia let go. A solid wordless look passed between them and Jaheira payed the merchant for the vambracers and greaves. A little more steel. It clinked in a comforting way as they left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to worry,” said Thalia. “At least about me falling into a waking dream and killing a child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira didn’t interrupt. Thalia didn’t dare look at her; no reaction could’ve made her feel better. After saving Baldur’s Gate and accepting the hospitality of the dukes, Thalia had slain the young daughter in a delusion. Irenicus had lured her from the dungeons to capture her. She still wasn’t sure if she deserved to be saved from it, but, given her life, she wouldn’t surrender it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sarevok had them, too,” she continued. “Only when he didn’t… pacify the taint.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Murder,” whispered Jaheira fearfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Killing. Bloodshed.” Her gloved fingers closed in a stiff fist. “There’s a certain power, too. Like I said, no need to worry. I won’t let the taint get the better of me again. Working, now, there’s plenty of killing to be done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira stopped them by a stall of street food. A goat roasted on a spit, its cook slicing off pieces with a sword. The fragrant spices and fluffy bread called to Thalia’s empty stomach. At a carnival, Imoen had eaten three of those, drinking so much they had all come back up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What power?” asked Jaheira sharply. “You never mentioned anything about a power. Never mentioned much of anything. Are you listening to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia dragged her mind back. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are so determined to be on your own side, you forget you are not here alone.” Jaheira’s hard face softened. “I shouldn’t have called you a child. You are far more than Gorion’s ward and, while it may be sorrowful to watch innocence pass, you are no child. I’ll do my best to listen, but you must do your best to speak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The impassioned sincerity left her with a lump in her throat. “Whatever He sought to do, He got much of the way there,” said Thalia reluctantly. “The taint, it’s… active. He had me practice it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Red Wizard?” asked Jaheira, fury in her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no need to blame it on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irenicus. Edwin’s calling it sorcery, but I’m doubtful. Can sorcerers heal? Command life and death?” She crossed her arms and ignored Jaheira’s pensive look. “It’s Bhaal — what’s left of him, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira’s hands climbed her quarterstaff and she shook her head. “This mess. I had never thought Gorion would get mixed up in it. I am—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t pity me,” she hissed. “It’s a weapon, one I will use to see Imoen safe and Irenicus dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be thinking of </span>
  <em>
    <span>using </span>
  </em>
  <span>it,” she said, mouth agape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t see Him. His power, what He can </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Far as I can see, He locked you away and didn’t bother a hair on your head—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He killed my husband!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not dare compare your pain to mine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I spent </span>
  <em>
    <span>sixty</span>
  </em>
  <span> years at that man’s side—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I eight months on a rack, listening to Imoen scream! He </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> has her.” Thalia stepped closer and snarled, “I’ll do everything I can to make Him pay. Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> make the mistake thinking you’re the only one here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you don’t,” snarled Jaheira. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had begun to attract attention. The combined power of their glares shuttered away the worst of them and the crowd around them returned to its normal flow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” muttered Thalia. “Guess I deserved that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira sighed. The pain of talking about Khalid smoothed from the lines in her face. “You deserve peace, as do we all. We shouldn’t act as such, towards each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Screams shocked the air. The crowds started to a halt as the screams continued. Panic poured out of the circus tent, stomping feet, and Thalia felt the cold cruel disturbance of magic. It hung in the air like an invisible fog. The panic spread, touching shopkeepers who abandoned their wares to join the fleeing crowd. Thalia and Jaheira muscled to prevent getting swept away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Jaheira called out to several members of the crowd, but none answered. Several only yelped, “Magic!” before fleeing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waukeen’s Promenade began to empty. Thalia whipped her head around and, as the crowds thinned, she picked Viconia and Edwin some distance from each other. They ventured closer, followed by Anomen as he recognised them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They must require aid,” said Anomen fitfully. His armor shone, polished to a mirror shine. It made Thalia want to rub mud all over it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She checked her sword. It was where it had always been. The blade hadn’t turned to wood in the last hour. “Suppose they do. Hope there’s a reward somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My good lady, we must assist regardless,” said Anomen, aghast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do hope you won’t get back in the habit of performing public services,” said Edwin distastefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not without payment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen gaped. Ignoring the damn paladin, Thalia brushed by and approached the tent. It still stood, apparently peaceful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you make of this magic?” she asked Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard jerked a shrug. “There’s no essence to it.” At a pointed glare, he sighed an added, “Cast from scrolls or items. From my preliminary investigations, scrollwork is exceedingly common, in hopes of preventing the ire of the Cowled Wizards. Even so, they have a monopoly on the legal market.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cowled Wizards? Ha!” barked Yoshimo. The rogue manifested in plain brown clothes next to Thalia, making her jump. “Red one, if it is scrolls you seek, I know this secretive scroll trader — an old friend of mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shall keep that in mind,” said Edwin though gritted teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A frazzled guard at the tent’s entrance stopped them. “Halt! The tent has been closed for your own safety. The circus will reopen… when it reopens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind the guard, the tent’s flaps fluttered frantically in the still wind. The scent of magic was stronger, almost claustrophobic. It settled in Thalia’s chest, heavy, digging in like a rabid animal. Claws grappled at memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s happened here?” asked Jaheira. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier jumped as something in the tent exploded. “Not sure. There wasn’t a problem until… until the show started. We’ve tried to evacuate but—” He shook his head. “Move along, citizens. This isn’t your concern.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We just want to help, fine sir,” said Anomen. “Tell us what you know and we might be able to lend assistance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… unnatural. We should wait for the Cowled Wizards, but, I won’t stop you. You lot’ve been warned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira parted the flap for them, entering first. Thalia’s jaw dropped when the dim cavern came into view. A magnificent bridge of moonstone and lapis lazuli stretched across the chasm, gilded with lion’s faces. The ceiling reached far and beyond the natural limits of the tent. In fact, there was not even any evidence of the fabric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was an illusion. Just as real and just as beautiful as His.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” said Yoshimo, clicking his tongue. “It did not look like this last time I was here, I must say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice boomed from the darkness and the bridge illuminated. “Aha! I see wayfarers have come to amuse Kalah! Answer a riddle, naturally, and you shall gain passage.” The genie was little more than spirit, ten feet tall and brandishing scimitars and a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is this Kalah?” demanded Anomen. “He must show himself!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He does not reveal himself to those who are not worthy,” said the genie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen spluttered and drew his sword. Thalia threw her arm to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm yourself — fair knight,” she said, but the sarcasm was lost on him. “Just a riddle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen reluctantly lowered his blade, but didn’t sheathe it again. He nodded his assent to the genie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent! A princess is as old as the prince will be when the princess is twice as old as the prince was when the princess’s age was half the sum of their present age. How old, then, are they now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… What?” asked Thalia, dumbfounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira groaned and took up a battle stance. So much for it just being a simple little riddle. Thalia longed for a dagger to match with her longsword, but she readied herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The prince is thirty, she is forty,” said Edwin in a particularly bored voice. “Thay give me strength, you truly are all complete idiots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” said the genie, as though he hadn’t realised they had been ready to attack. “You are correct. The mighty Kalah respects those with a most agile and quick mind. Proceed with his blessing.” The genie vanished in a puff of smoke and the bridge cleared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We shall keep your faculties in mind, then,” said Viconia, “in case we come along any riddling squirrels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Insults, feeble as they are,” said the wizard, “do not put me in the mood to lie my indispensable abilities to this little quest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut up,” snapped Jaheira. “Before something hears you. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see hide nor hair of any people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bridge was longer than the entire tent appeared on the outside. In the distance of the ravine, waterfalls of glittering gemstones poured with a crash. A dome-shaped manor wrought all in foggy blue stained glass loomed at them from the end of the bridge. Braziers danced light over the gold work. It would barely fit in the Promenade, let alone the tent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within, lush gardens and and an ivory palace greeted them with the smell of sweet flowers. Marble sculptures spit water in flowing arcs. And an ogre. Hulking, green, wrinkled, its modesty barely hid by stinking furs. It raised a massive hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It gasped, a shrill voice that stopped Thalia’s heart. “Who are you?” cried the ogre. “Oh, you must flee this place at once. He’s killed a-almost everyone. Oh, please, run!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the girlish voice of a young woman, parched thin with terror. For a moment, it sounded like Imoen. Another illusion sent by Him to torture her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia took a step backwards, bumping against Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen stepped forward, steel shining. “I’m not about to believe a foul creature such as yourself. Have at you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay your blade, jaluk,” snapped Viconia. “It is an illusion. Once you address it, believe it, it will become truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Anomen backed down. The ogre’s massive ugly face broke into a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin scoffed. “A sickeningly inane oversimplification, but it must be easier for the common minds to grasp.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ogre’s smile stumbled and slipped. “Return to the city, please. You must warn everyone! There are lives at stake. I don’t know how much longer Kalah will be satisfied with his kingdom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will deal with this Kalah,” said Jaheira, and the ogre drew strength from her tone. “Tell us of him, how he came to this power.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s His,” said Thalia hollowly. “His laboratory blew up. Can’t say I’m surprised bits and pieces spread around the city.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ogre nodded, thick green ears waggling. “That’s true! He’s just an illusionist, in the circus. My uncle Quayle and I, we knew him a time, but he’s not that great. He must be stopped, </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> he kills anyone else. If you would free me, I could help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ogre directed them to some commoners across the gardens. Even at the distance, Thalia could see they didn’t move quite right. Their illusions held, but only just. Jaheira and Anomen took Yoshimo to investigate. Viconia insisted it was a waste of time and muttered curses as they left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ogre wrung her hands together, picking at her nails. A scrunch of worry etched above her nose. Even the expression was too familiar. Thalia’s heart ached the more she looked, but she couldn’t turn away. The innocence, the wide eyes, the naked fear in the face of danger tempered by determination, the vulnerability asking to be protected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others returned. Anomen carried a strange-looking sword that the ogre accepted eagerly. In her hands, it shifted and a brilliant gold light consumed her. The outline of the ogre shifted, blurry in the light. With a sudden gasp, she collapsed. Anomen slid forward to catch her. The ogre, it turned out, was a pretty young elf with a heart-shaped face. But the hair was not orange and ragged. Instead, it was flaxen and full of beads. Even knowing it couldn’t be her, Thalia still found herself feeling robbed, like she had lost Imoen all over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My hands!” cried the elf, inspecting long pale fingers. “Oh, thank Baervan!” She blushed a deep crimson as she realised Anomen held her. “And — And thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was an honour to assist, my good lady,” he said, setting her on her feet, though he remained on his knees. “Might I have your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-Aerie,” she said. She swallowed, biting her lip. “We must find Kalah before he does any more harm. I have magic! I could help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>allowed</span>
  </em>
  <span> those Cowled Wizards to track your Weave signature?” asked Edwin in disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aerie shirked at his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show the lady some curtesy, wizard,” said Anomen sharply. “She has been through a troubling ordeal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo turned to Edwin with interest. “Our wizard is unlicensed? Truly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> can be bought in Athkatla.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If only they could be returned,” said Jaheira with a sharp look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could use a mage’s help who doesn’t rely on scrolls,” said Thalia, raising an eyebrow to Aerie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aerie’s face split into a wide grin. “Of course! We must help Quayle — my uncle. Kalah promised to keep him somewhere and I won’t leave without him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So long as you be careful, child,” said Jaheira somberly. “We don’t need to create another casualty of this dark place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia muttered darkly, slinking along the shadows at the edge of the walls to avoid Aerie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The citadel seemed to go on forever, a luxury palace of gardens and pleasure dens teeming with nymphs and dryads. A curling staircase ascended, breaking out into a lavish bedroom. Thalia’s heart leapt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Werewolves. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It must be, though she had never seen one before, let alone… a dozen. Slavering, almost gnoll-like in their height and twisted canine form—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illusions,” said Jaheira warningly. “Keep your heads.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed her fear. Illusions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A powerful man wearing only a gilded loincloth and vest stood up languidly. The dryds attending him backed away, blushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Aerie,” he said in a rich voice, “I see you have broken free — and you’ve decided to serve Kalah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one true God!” cried a dryad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The King of the Beginning, and the End!” called another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord of—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut up,” said Anomen, scowling. “Your reign of terror will end where it has barely begun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aerie,” gargled a gelatinous voice, “is that you, my sweet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aerie tried to push past Jaheira, but she kept a firm grip. “Uncle! I’m here. I’m here to rescue you! I’ve brought friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good girl, I’m so sorry you had to get caught up in all this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia spun around, looking for the voice but came only onto a thick patch of wiggling green slime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silence! Devour them, my pets!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The werewolves sprung into action. They bounded on four legs, hot breath scourged with malice dripping spittle. Thalia suppressed her own shock as one tore a ragged mangy paw through Jaheira’s neck. It fazed through, like wind through leaves. No harm. No blood. No damage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only illusions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shadows themselves peeled away from the darkness with grasping hands. They dragged Anomen to the ground. His chainmail jangled and he grunted with pain. Jaheira knocked her staff against the tangible blackness. Yoshimo slipped into a dueling stance. White sparks flew and the shadows screamed. An unknown magic — the elf, Aerie — wove amongst them. Even as Thalia ducked through the battle and forged ahead, she felt it bolster her. A false courage, a strength. Kalah’s magic battered against them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalah grinned fiercely. From thin air, he summoned his own weapon, a massive double-bladed axe that could’ve cost a town its years’ wages in steel alone. Gilded and glowing and magical, Thalia gritted herself. A single common longsword would never match a hit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved faster than should’ve been possible. The axe cut through the air with a heavy whistle, then another. Thalia backed, dodging the incoming blows. The illusionist didn’t wear armor — but did that even matter?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, then, her eyes landed on the dagger. The ebony wood handle, jutted into his belt. A ruby glistened. Several rubies. She knew there was twelve. She knew how it would glow in the firelight like blood. She knew how it felt, scoring and slicing and stabbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It belonged to Him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The battleaxe slammed into her and threw her across the room. Pain shocked through her as she hit the wall and slumped down. Dazed, she dragged herself to her feet. No blood. Her armor wasn’t torn. The axe was an illusion, like anything else. Only a spell. Those broken ribs weren’t imaginary, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the room, a long-taloned shadow beast drew a shadowy bow. Thalia tensed to roll. She wouldn’t stand in time. The arrow released.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sudden magical field surrounded her. Anomen. A patch of white-blue light covered like sunlight and healed her. The shadow arrow pierced the field around the shield he held aloft, but held firm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sidestepped Anomen and charged. She ignored the axe. She grabbed the dagger from the belt and wrenched hard. The dagger screamed in her mind at recognition. She felt it sifting through her memories, her soul, sitting in that dark place where Bhaal’s fragment curled in her heart. The taint reacted, instinctively, and rebelled. Sharp fiery pain lit her bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ripped it from the sheathe and stabbed the man in the gut. He shouted in pain, but the deep voice faded away to something far shriller. The illusionary citadel faded. The circus tent, empty and dim, returned. The green goo became a gnome in a purple suit, badly beaten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Kalah was nothing more than a gnome himself. He whimpered, clutching the wound as blood spread.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s hand trembled as she clutched the dagger. She didn’t dare look at it, but she couldn’t drop it. She didn’t need to — the taint had done its work. The wooden handle rotted in her hand, fading to dust. The metal rusted and crumbled. Her fist clenched on air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t understand,” moaned Kalah. “I just wanted to be respected, for people to think I was powerful and stop looking down on me—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I am wounded!” Jaheira’s voice was sharp with pain, a whisper almost shrill. “Khalid… I come for… you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hands held a river of blood in her gut. Claws had raked straight through the leather and her spell protections. Before even Thalia could get there, Viconia knelt, cursing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pull yourself together, weakling,” she snapped. “Never lower your eye to an enemy. What sort of warrior do you name yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood curled from her mouth and her eyes shut. “All… creatures succumb to the cycle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be responsible for your death, feeble one. Stand!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia slapped her. Jaheira blinked, unseeing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stayed her hand the second time. Reluctantly, Viconia began to chant. With every word the nasty-looking wound closed and the bloodflow staunched. Viconia grimaced from the effort and left Jaheira, bloody, on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I could see him,” said Jaheira, her voice a tremble. She took Thalia’s arm to stand. “You pulled me back. Damn you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never force me to do that again,” said Viconia softly. Her eyes flashed. “And think not to finish damning the one who returned you to this life, mongrel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without waiting to see if Jaheira would, Viconia turned and ducked out of the tent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next time, my lady,” said Anomen loftily, “I may spread Helm’s light to seal the wounds. My powers as his cleric are immense and many a compatriot has benefited from—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, get there first,” said Thalia, glaring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen recoiled from her words, fluffing in his scaled armor like feathers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dying remains of the gnome chose not to go quietly, whimpering and howling as to the pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a foul disgrace and a coward as well,” said Quayle sharply. “The forces you play with are beyond your ken.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll be dead soon,” said Thalia. “Don’t bother.” She brushed her hands off on her legs and winced. It might’ve been an illusionary wall, but those bruises wouldn’t be illusionary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aerie gasped and threw herself at Quayle. He cried out at the hug, but returned it all the same. His hand stroked her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew Kalah would trip over himself eventually,” he said. “But, you — you brought heroes to come rescue us, my brave girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dainty arms wrapped around him. “What would I ever do without you? You’re the wisest, and smartest, and kindest, and bestest man I’ve ever known.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia watched, stricken. It was just the sort of thing Imoen would say. But they had left their home and father ages ago now. Gorion was dead, near two years now. All Imoen had to hold like that, love like that was Thalia. And Thalia had no one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they finished their sappy reunion, the cold numbness in her built. And she realised they all looked to her expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quayle repeated himself, Aerie still holding onto him. “Thank you, for helping us. I understand this was a difficult battle, one you were unprepared for—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take my thanks in coin,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seven hundred was not enough. Not by far. Thalia counted it thrice to make sure. Quayle produced the two hundred and Thalia managed to shake down the circus manager, as well as the Amnish guardsmen and Cowled Wizards for the rest. It was a small fortune by any reckoning. Enough for a house. Horse and armor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it wasn’t anywhere close to enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The coin became party treasure, though only Anomen did not know of the twenty thousand gold debt. Even so, Thalia devoted three gold for the night’s celebration. Predominantly drink. Predominantly hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four ciders in, Aerie and Quayle slipped out of her mind like slime off glass. Perhaps, in an entirely un-Jaheira-like way, Jaheira knew Thalia wanted to be left alone. Viconia and Edwin evaporated, as they tended to when the day was done. It left her in peace, in a dark corner of the Copper Coronet — armed and armored and increasingly drunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What would a fine fighting dagger cost? Two hundred? It would mean saving another Quayle and Aerie. Another risky venture. Another chance for a maddened gnomish illusionist or necromancer or cultist to take off her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And what of the things they didn’t yet have? Tents and sleeping rolls? Horses, maybe? Surely, Anomen would find himself wanting plate armor. Thalia knew she did. And a better longsword — magical, preferably. Edwin would need scrolls. Did Yoshimo use poisons? Traps? And then potions. Antidotes, in case of giant spiders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia kicked her chair back on two legs and groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to cost money?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My lady—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia jolted back. Her chair tumbled to the ground, her on it. Anomen stared down at her, bemused. He had changed from his armor some hours ago, into a fine plum tunic, though he still wore the longsword. And a smarmy smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He extended a hand. “You have my apologies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stood on her own and pulled her chair back up. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen sat at her table, though she hadn’t offered him the seat. She grimaced and sat as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I prithee, my lady, it fills me with no small wonder you have not yet asked me of my journeys, my experience?” He chuckled. “We’ve slain shadows, met a genie, saved a frail young woman. I have saved your very life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” She rose her tankard solemnly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen began to flush, slowly, in disbelief. “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>it?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you expect groveling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I — That is no manner for a lady to express gratitude to the knight what saved her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were a squire,” she said, searching for relief in her mug. It was almost empty again. “And, I said before, I am no noble lady. Find Aerie. She’ll make nicer companionship, I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does your boorishness make you many friends?” asked Anomen, irritation entering his haughty tones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does your false courtesy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started. “It is the courtesy of a knight, a dignity owed to every noble soul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t feel very dignified.” She smiled and he recoiled from it. With a sigh, Thalia clanked her mug aside. “My manner… has never been the nicest, but I’ve been through some strife of late. It’s not an excuse and I won’t speak of it, but I will attempt to be less rude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” asked Anomen, leaning forward with interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I just say?” she snapped. She gathered herself. “Go on. Tell me of your own experiences.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are rather glorious,” he said, with the same false humility Thalia was sure did not belong to knightly courtesy. Somehow, though, all knights had it. “The path to knighthood is a long one, hence mine own travels, but the Order of the Most Radiant Heart has fielded armies. My name has entered some bard songs.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, as though hoping she would ask to hear them. Thalia watched him pleasantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I joined the Order against the orcs whence they came from the Ommlur Hills, raiding the countryside. Villages fell, refugees flooding the forts. I fought afield with sword and spear, slaying many on my own. Overcome with fear, other freeriders fell apart and the line was threatened. The day would’ve been lost had I not kept my wits about me and took the lead. I also took the head of a foul chieftain. I leapt to his back — like this — and impaled it through the spine with a spear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His story had the feeling of being well-rehearsed. Thalia somehow doubted she was the first woman to hear it in a bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Impressive,” she said dimly, though she attempted to be fair. “Orcs can be fearsome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In great numbers,” said Anomen. “Individually, though, they are no match for a true warrior.” He sighed. “I only rode among them as a freeman, then. It has been a struggle to prove my worth. Still, the way the banner of the Order fluttered in the air, it would inspire even the lowliest man to glory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Thalia fished out her last copper. “Might I send you on a daring quest to get a drink for yourself and me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen smiled. It was a far nicer smile than what he had shown before. Perhaps even genuine. “Of course, my lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He returned moments later with her drink, though none for himself. “I speak too much of my own deeds. Rather wouldn’t want you to think me prideful. I wouldn’t blame you were you disinterested in tales of my prowess, truly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shrugged. Tales of battle, even embellished, were interesting. While she doubted she could count herself a noble warrior, she was of the bent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“However, I have been told a little of your deeds in the Sword Coast, albeit they do sound rather fanciful,” he said, chuckling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was raised in Candlekeep. There are oceans between bard songs and histories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s smile grew. “A monastery? You do not strike me a holy woman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My… father,” she said. Bhaal had tainted the word, but even the Lord of Murder couldn’t shed darkness over Gorion’s memory. “A retired Harper and wizard, he acquired myself and Imoen as small children and raised us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” he said knowingly. “A Harper. As well as Jaheira. I knew those songs had been well false. Rumour brings exaggeration and, truly, I did not believe you ended a war on your own — skilled, as you may be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had allies, as I do now.” She raised her mug. “As soldiers do, when they assault Orcish hoards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s smile curled downwards. “I accomplished great deeds on my own. I entered single combat with a chieftain. I slew a coven of necromancers outside Athkatla. I and I alone. I am a product of mine own talent and hard-won training. I rode alone when I accomplished my deeds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s own deeds burned in her ears. The unfairness, the lie of it all. To deny her her own victories, while extolling his. But she was in no mood to argue — though punching him sounded good. She took another swig of cider.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one accomplishes anything on their own,” she said dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s nostrils flared, but he swallowed the anger. “You are wise, my lady, but the light of wisdom shines not in every darkness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia scowled. “What makes you so damned special, then? You’re not a knight. You’re a mercenary. You sell your sword—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood, towering over her. She rose an eyebrow, but felt quite comfortable in her armor and drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t sell it for gold and riches—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you sell it,” she insisted. “For accolades and glory and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Defending the weak. Protecting those who cannot protect themselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know Helm’s tenants as well as any.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clearly not well enough.” Anomen flushed a blotchy red and stormed away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia finished her drink. She sure hoped he wasn’t the sort to hold grudges — or expect an apology. Hopefully dawn would burn away his stubbornness. And the rest of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira returned to the Copper Coronet, just in time to see the last of Anomen’s back. She didn’t sit with Thalia, but gave her a questioning look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shouldn’t be surprised,” said Jaheira with a sigh. “Rather, I should be surprised you tolerated him this long.” A dead smile flickered in her eyes. “He is of the local type. I haven’t been this far south in many a year. Gorion was a young man, then…” She trailed off, uncertain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been almost two years,” she said casually. “Not speaking of him won’t make him any less dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira flinched. “I am more acquainted with death than you, girl. Simply because I choose not to speak of Khalid—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant nothing.” Thalia pulled her boots from the table. “Sit. We said we wouldn’t argue. What of Gorion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat stiffly, but continued, “Only that he ran afoul of some paladins who took issue with a mage. I frightened them off.” She inspected her folded hands. “Gorion was a far better storyteller.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They could last for days,” said Thalia hollowly. “Each new snippet left you wanting more. He built the land, the history, the people and you loved them alongside him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira nodded with a sad smile. Sometimes, Thalia forgot Jaheira had known Gorion all his life. Elves, even half-elves, led strange lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m surprised he still told stories like that with you and… and Imoen,” said Jaheira. “You must’ve been a handful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imoen pestered about the next part as soon as Gorion finished one,” she said. “It taught her patience, he said. Because he was telling a story, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>giving</span>
  </em>
  <span> the memories. So we could take them with us.” She frowned into her empty glass, memories fraying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is much of him, in you,” said Jaheira softly. “Love leaves its mark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed back the emotions. “And Khalid in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira made a small noise of surprise. “True… True enough.” She stood suddenly. “Well, enough of this,” she said, all business. “We’ve plenty of work to do. Get to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get to bed?” Yoshimo laughed and pulled himself from the bar. Thalia tensed. She hadn’t even seen him. “Get to bed whilst we all remain veritable strangers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m retiring, Yoshimo,” said Jaheira with a sigh. “Enjoy whatever nonsense you have planned.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded a final farewell to Thalia before climbing the stairs. Thalia had just been about to follow her when Yoshimo smoothly slid into place. With another pair of drinks. There was something about the rough rugged smile that coaxed her to stay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So. Perhaps we start at the beginning. How did you get into adventuring? It is a dangerous business, as you well know.” He laughed harshly. “Any of could’ve died today!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not so much get into adventuring as it was forced upon me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile fell with a cresendo and Yoshimo stared. “Eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia drank and shrugged. “It wasn’t my first career path. Jaheira hadn’t told you? I was alone with no place to go when I was thrown on the road.” The memory jerked a pain. “No,” she said softly, “that’s not quite true. I had Imoen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen had fled Candlekeep after Thalia and Gorion. A misplaced wanderlust and instinct something bad would happen. Fled safety, protection, a good life in the monastery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sisters,” said Yoshimo uncertainly. “They… leave well their mark. You are right, Jaheira did tell me — of an old friend of hers, murdered, and his charges, abandoned. What of this man who killed your foster father? Sarevok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grunted. “Not much to tell. I hunted him down and killed him. End of story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, but it was a much less pleasant laugh. “Oh, Thalia, that is </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> the end of the story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but it’s the end of yours tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” Yoshimo sat back, deep in thought. “You have my sympathies,” he said solemnly. “It is deeply unfortunate Sarevok found the need to kill you. Such needs, I find, are often fears. Pains. He must’ve feared competition for your shared sire’s power.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably,” she said, noncommittal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were his fears founded in truth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” She set her tankard down, too hard. “Bhaal’s divinity should’ve died with him. I’ve no desire to be a god.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet, you do have powers of your heritage?” he pressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing remotely godlike. Fear not, I…” She frowned, thinking. “I… Jaheira wouldn’t have told you I am a Bhaalspawn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo’s smile flickered meekly. “Forgive this rogue’s deception, my friend. I heard stories, whispers, but tend to not put stock in such things. And I was right not to. You are an honourable person to deny such powers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His soft words did nothing to dispel Thalia’s eye. “How did you come to be imprisoned?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo winced, but accepted the suspicion with grace. “A bounty hunt gone awry, I’m afraid. Every freelancer and thief knows to beware the streets of Athkatla at night, but I was too eager. Rushed headlong into things. Followed my prey down a dank tunnel, which ended in a very remarkable home. So remarkable, in fact, I requested a small cell for several tendays to take in the views.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia regretted her suspicion. He didn’t seem to show signs of recent torment, but Jaheira — a far better judge of character and, at least currently, more level-headed than herself — had declared him trustworthy. She shouldn’t have doubted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps, another night, you’ll tell me more of your adventures,” said Thalia, standing. “For now, I need some sleep as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s room and quiet privacy offered no salvation, not even when she locked the door and stripped off the armor. The lack of steel made her feel naked. Exposed, even alone. Jaheira was right, in a comforting way. Yet, maybe Anomen was, too. Her time with Him had left its mark and it wasn’t a pretty one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not pretty at all, she thought, as she undressed. Scars crossed over her chest and back like hatchwork, thin and white as spidersilk against her ashen skin. A cruel burn marked her left arm, though that was a far older injury. A battle wound, sustained by a fire elemental. Imoen had fired arrows into it. Of course, the wood sizzled away. The ugly wound made her smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bloodcurdling scream pierced the dark night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia pressed herself flat against the wall. She scarcely dared to breathe. It wasn’t Imoen. It couldn’t be. Spellhold sat a distance out into the sea, miles and miles away. It wasn’t Jaheira. Neither was it Viconia. They were safe. The woman pleaded and begged, only a few streets away. Something pursued her, a scratching of nails on stone. The cheer of the inn downstairs didn’t even let up. And Thalia remembered the dire warning Edwin had given, of a guild war with the Shadow Thieves, enemies more beast than man. Yoshimo said every rogue knew not to trust the streets at night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The screams grew shriller outside the window. Closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia didn’t dare move from her position, to let her shadow fall across the drapes. She reached for her sword. The feeling of cold metal comforted her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scream cut off into a cry and fell silent. Something wet ripped and the night was quiet once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia panted, wiping the sweat from her brow. Then, she frowned at the sword in her hand. The dented shoddy longsword Edwin had bought her. It looked no different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sheathe lay with the rest of her armor, carefully set aside. Across the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia dropped her blade like it bit her. It clattered harmlessly, steel on wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached </span>
  </em>
  <span>for it. Summoned it, with a reach and her fear. The taint followed her instincts, her wordless command like an eager puppy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia raised a hand, trembling, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached</span>
  </em>
  <span> again. It twitched on the floor before shooting upwards. She gasped and fell back, but it merely fell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached</span>
  </em>
  <span> again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It drifted towards her, grip up, wobbling as though held by a string. Curiously, she could feel it in her hand long before her fingers closed around it. Thin leather wrapped around the grip, hard and unyielding. And, then, as she held it, a solid weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn,” she whimpered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia snuffed her fear and practiced the motion again and again. She juggeled her day clothes. Matches spelled words in mid air with flat, straight lines. Her sword shot across the room like an arrow, but it couldn’t stick in the windowsill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It brought no comfort, her newfound ability. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it brought her closer to Bhaal, the now-silent beast. It had promised her she would give in, one night, that she would embrace it. That her self-control and nobility would falter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One night had come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would all be okay, though. If Imoen was safe, she would weather whatever the world demanded of her.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Cold Mint</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Breakfast changed little, Thalia found. The most common and cheapest fare was a bowl of grain cooked slow and creamy. The Sword Coast grew oats, while Amn favoured rice. Thalia’s bowl came with a drop of thick honey and mint. She let it get cold. Coffee, though, she had taken a liking to. It cut through her hangover and soothed the guilty hunger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did Imoen face to eat when she awoke? A bowl of fluffy porridge that turned to maggots in her mouth, writhing? Nothing but her own hunger, to devour from within? Moldy bread?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sweet porridge was not very tempting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand turned the knob and Thalia’s stomach fell. At the Thayvian curse, she relaxed and unlocked the door. Edwin brushed past her and sat at the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waved a hand at her breakfast. “There is a dangerous day ahead of you, wench. It will require all my immense mental acumen and your own glowering incompetence — do not burden myself with your own self-made weakness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Working up to it,” she said with a grunt. She sat and forced a spoonful in her mouth. It was gluey, pasty, cooling from the mint and earthy from the honey. “You got a job?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Demand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia waited until he felt like sharing. Didn’t take long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard sighed. “My own relations to the Shadow Thieves are irrelevant to your deal, though the leader of this paltry group of brigands demands an audience. Surely, Renal will have further demands. All that is required is for you to look threatening and acquiesce. Can you manage that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia spat out a particularly woody mint twig. Edwin wrinkled his nose and made a noise of disgust. She did it again to spite him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These demands, will he pay?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes glittered. “He will pay and pay well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”  Thalia pushed away her mostly finished breakfast and stood. “I’ll get the others and we’ll head over shortly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin laughed, a cold bitter sound. “You think to take that brutish druid to a nest of intrigue and thievery? And a warrior-priest of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Helm?</span>
  </em>
  <span> This is why you do not do the thinking in this arrangement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From what I remember,” she said coolly, “our arrangement was that you would help me get Imoen back and I would then follow you to Thay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t finish the threat of the debt. It spoke for itself. She would willingly walk into the prison of the Red Wizards, who probably had as little humanity as Him. Still, there was time before she had to pay that debt. Who was to say Edwin wouldn’t die in the meanwhile? Thalia did not like to think she would kill an ally when convenient — but she already had. Twice. And allies she liked the company of far more than him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face remained blank, unreadable. “I will decide what you do or do not owe me, wretch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen will find out we have new bags of gold. Any ideas, oh master wizard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said testily. “They’re called </span>
  <em>
    <span>lies</span>
  </em>
  <span>, idiot</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not quite that stupid and he’ll be offended he didn’t come along to join us on grand heroic deeds,” she said dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dispose of him, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia groaned. “How can </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>be so stupid? You’re next to useless, save for scrolls that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> could read. Viconia might be an assassin, but she’s four-foot-ten of foul attitude. What if we run into a threat Jaheira and I cannot handle alone? What if we need another warrior?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the Sword Coast, you weren’t nearly so preoccupied with such tactics,” said Edwin, eyes narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I was an idiot — as you so helpfully remind me. No. Anomen stays.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard drummed long fingers on the table, his gold and ruby rings dun in the dim light. “What if the brat dies, either in the extraction or before we arrive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s blood ran cold. “She won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, if she does? Will you hold your end of this?” he asked darkly. “Or will you force my hand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shut her eyes. If she answered wrong, he would leave and keep a close eye on her. Worse, he likely had a failsafe plan, in case of this very moment. A scroll of paralysis, or one of his spell-casting tattoos or amulets. Thalia could be spirited away to Thay before they had even begun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” she muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Louder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will, damn you. I’ll cooperate.” She glared at him. “For now, though, you cooperate with me. You get me to a position where I can rescue Imoen and — no matter the results — I’ll come with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin stood with a certain flourish. “So long as we all know where we stand, godschild. Tell your underlings what you want. We leave shortly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he left, Thalia </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached</span>
  </em>
  <span> for her sword. It dashed to her, grip-side up, at speed, narrowly missing his nose. He whirled at the suddenness. She didn’t aim it at him, but her own threat was unspoken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard smiled. “Save some of these theatrics for Renal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he left, his smile crawled along her skin. Thalia armed and armored herself, wondering how to broach the topic with the others. Jaheira took no issue with the Shadow Thieves, at least with their promise to help rescue Imoen. Viconia would be perplexed as to the problem. Yoshimo would be practical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen, though. So self-righteous, it leaked out of every pore. Thalia tried to remind herself that most good, upstanding citizens </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be opposed to dealing with underworld thugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira and Anomen shared a more involved breakfast by an open window. Anomen ate a fig delicately with a dagger. “What has led you to this dangerous road of the Harpers?” he asked. He even seemed interested by the answer. It almost made Thalia feel bad for judging him so harshly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a path of conscience. Many druids take a contemplative life, but I sought a more active furthering of nature’s cause.” Jaheira slathered a piece of brown bread with butter. “And you?” she asked with a smile. “Swear your faith and blade to Helm only for honour and glory?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not, the righteous path ever beckons to those—” He caught sight of Thalia and his eyes and voice hardened. “To those of true heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we going somewhere?” asked Jaheira, indicating Thalia’s armor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but I am.” Thalia sighed and pulled around a chair, straddling it. “I have to deal with our benefactors. Meet with their leader.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira speared a piece of cold lamb on a knife, thinking. “I will come with you, but, speak plainly. The Copper Coronet has long been the home of the nefarious. You are at no risk here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye, my lady, the low-lives flock to this part of sweet Athkatla like flies to a corpse. Pardon.” Anomen’s nostrils flared. “Who is your benefactor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thaila braced her arms against the chair and stared at their breakfast. Figs, slick olives, dark brown bread and a soft spread swirled with oil and spices. And a few generous shavings of lamb. More than enough for two; Jaheira had hoped Thalia would join them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have family, Anomen?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A sister,” he said stiffly, though he didn’t elaborate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, too. Imoen,” said Thalia, not raising her eyes from the table. “My little sister. We are of an age, truly, but she was always the more cheerful, delighted by even the rising and falling of the sun. Mischievous. She loves spooky bard songs of goblins and Drizzt the Drow, and the wonder of magic, the colour pink, and… Anyway. This wizard I mentioned — Irenicus — He kidnapped us. Tormented us, for months, right under Waukeen’s Promenade before someone blew it open and laid siege. We escaped in the chaos, but she was arrested by the Cowled Wizards for the resulting battle. Along with Him. Spellhold.” She shook her head. “I have no doubt He will use the prison to continue his experiments. And I would do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see her safe again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira reached out a hand. Thalia let her lay it on her arm, right over the old burn scar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” said Anomen. He folded his hands at the table and considered them. “My lady, I apologize for my demeanor last night. This is the most noble of quests, as well as the most personal. It should be my deepest honour to accompany you and save your Imoen. The Cowled Wizards are a corrupt, power-hungry bunch and foiling them—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve struck a deal with the Shadow Thieves to barter us safe passage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With </span>
  <em>
    <span>who?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he blustered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia gave him a thin smile. “I’ve heard they are a powerful group.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Powerful, cruel, brutal,” said Anomen, as though she were particularly simple. “Cutthroats. Moneylenders. Thugs. They’ve eyes and hands all across the city, working over the docks and shipmasters and merchants with threats and bribes. And murder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, they do say there is honour among thieves,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> no honour among thieves,” he said bitterly. “No more than there are snow fairies in Icewind Dale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Until I find a better solution, they are all I have,” she said determinedly. “Until then, I must continue to pacify them and attempt to collect their outrageous price.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much?” he asked, clearly dreading the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twenty thousand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen sat back and grumbled, mouthing the number to himself. “Extortionate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any other ideas?” she asked with more patience than he deserved. “Anything? I’m not a local. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> at all would be helpful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit vengefully into his fig.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a no?” she goaded. “I thought so.” Thalia stood and glanced to Jaheira. “Edwin says the leader wants to meet with me. Stay. I’ll be back tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is about your sister?” said Anomen quietly. “You want to see her safe and sound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Enough to sell myself to a Red Wizard.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The girl is real,” said Jaheira. “Let me tell you more about her adventurers with her in the north. Imoen is rather spirited.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia took her leave as Jaheira continued. Hearing about Imoen from another perspective, it sounded like a memory. A eulogy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin waited outside, a foulness on his face. “Renal will smell that soft look in your eye like a fiend hound to blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Renal?” asked a slick voice. “As in the Bloodscalp? I’ve always meant to meet with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo picked his nails with a dagger in the alley. Right next to the Copper Cornet, close enough to have been waiting, but not so far that Thalia could’ve accused him for spying. He grinned. “I’m afraid I’ve dealt him rather the insult by working without his… permission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know the Shadow Thieves?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! No,” he admitted, stepping into the grey sunlight. “But all know of the Great Yoshimo. Saving lost little elves in this cold world is good for the soul — but not the coin purse. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is one trip I will be more useful at. Let me come, I can smooth over the cracks—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are selling yourself quite highly,” said Edwin coolly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only honestly.” He turned his smile to the wizard. “I admire the same quality in yourself, my very red Elminster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin scowled and Thalia had to chuckle. Edwin loathed the legendary wizard and it took a special sort of person to aggravate him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come along,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo followed along at a quiet distance. Even beggars gave them a wide berth as Edwin directed them back to the docks. He must’ve been in Athkatla some time, as he passed through the crooked streets without hesitation. Time still felt half a blur. Thalia struggled to remember how many days had passed since her escape from Him. And… she had a strange memory, of running into Edwin at the Copper Coronet, but he hadn’t been in red and he hadn’t been bald. How long had he been here, working with those Shadow Thieves?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin stepped into an alley and pulled open a nondescript door. Though none addressed him as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr Wizard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like Gaelan Bayle had, they gave him a short nod. The dim guildhouse was cluttered with messy tables. Stools low enough for halflings shuffled around tables, as a few pairs played cards. Coins glowed in candlelight. Rows of daggers and crossbows hung at the ready, like an armory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Renal still here?” asked Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the halflings pointed up the stairs. “Be quick. He’s in a right bad mood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Must be the weather,” said Thalia dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silence, you idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was no fear in his voice. Thalia knew the fear, the way his voice and accent did that half-tremble, how he hissed through gritted teeth. Now, he was only annoyed. Whatever waited for them upstairs, it wasn’t any real threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not an idiot. And don’t call me Silence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She won a hearty laugh from Yoshimo, but only a glare from the wizard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upstairs, the halls divided and divided again into narrow cramped quarters, furnished lavishly for what it was. Black velvet, gold ropes, braziers lit with tiny magelights rather than true fire. Edwin pulled open the door — without knocking. One day, it would get him killed. Thalia made sure to stand back from him, though the greetings inside sounded pleasant enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Master Odessairon! I didn’t expect you. How wonderful for you to come so quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Renal, I assure you, my highest priority is service to you and your guild.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stared at Edwin like he had grown a few spare heads. He shook hands with a dusky-skinned man, shorter than himself and rather paunchy. He looked neither like a dashing rogue, nor an underworld boss. In fact, he looked quite like a librarian. Thalia could’ve sworn half the monks of Candlekeep wore the same little wire-rimmed glasses. Renal’s broad smile landed on Thalia and she saw the shrewd thief behind his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I request a wizard and look what tumbles out of the coin purse — a derelict freelancer and… a hero,” said Renal, his voice rich and friendly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestured at a smooth mosaic table. The black and blue glass sported a symbol in the gilding: a dagger through a mask. As Thalia inspected the room, she determined they were alone. The guildhall wasn’t as shabby as it first appeared — the plaster bore no cracks and the magelights emitted a pleasant smoky smell, like the fantasized campfire in the woods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin shut the door and, when she didn’t sit, took a chair. Thalia leaned against the wall, watching, as Renal poured four cups of wine. Edwin accepted. She wondered if she was gleaning an uncomfortable insight to a far more agreeable Edwin — the one who served the Red Wizards, he with a master.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Yoshimo,” said Renal with savour. “It has been some time since I last heard of you befouling my streets. I nearly thought they had opened up and swallowed you whole, dear lad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo bowed with a flourish and a crooked smile. “I am so pleased you give me any thought at all. It is always good to be remembered by one’s peers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peers?” he asked. Renal’s face remained pleasant, but his voice tightened. “You are just too much, Yoshi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Yoshimo, please,” he corrected. He sat at the offered table alongside Edwin, throwing a boot to the table. “Where I come from, such nicknames are… well, we have not become quite so familiar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet.” Renal slid a hand onto his shoulder. “Don’t make me do something hideous. These rugs are new.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tethyr weave,” said Yoshimo blithely. He inspected the wine and selected one, drinking deep. “Small fortune, especially since the Nelanther pirates don’t cut even deals. I could grease these coins—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can settle your debt another time,” said Renal curtly. He reached for his own cup of wine, eyes fixed on Thalia, who bristled. “You’ll have to excuse me, if I stare,” he said apologetically. “You’re not quite what I was expecting. From all I was told, I was expecting someone…” His hand searched for the word. “Larger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Expecting more from the leader of the Shadow Thieves myself,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, when you earn a name like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bloodscalp</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you tend to raise expectations.” Renal sat beside Yoshimo and smiled. “Much like </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Great</span>
  </em>
  <span>, hmm, Yoshi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo flushed but pasted on a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you know about me?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal leaned back in his chair. His shirt had been laced loosely and it exposed a patch of dark chest hair. “What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> know about me and my fine men?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are cutthroats. Murderers. Moneylenders. Smugglers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you are here regardless,” he said with a cutting smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am here because of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal’s smile grew into a grin. “You were right,” he said to Edwin. “I’m glad you brought her. You find the most interesting people.” He drank from the wine. “I’ve been told many tales of your exploits further north — stopping the iron war, slaughtering House Anchev. Nasty business,” he said approvingly. “And I know you are a sorcerer of not inconsiderable ability.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s fingers tensed around her arm. The third cup rose, mostly steady, towards her. Yoshimo watched it with wide eyes. She put it to her lips, but didn’t drink. The wine was red, dark and sharp to the scent. She couldn’t have detected a poison if her life depended on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal took that look that Edwin sometimes did, like she was a particularly well-crafted hammer. And they had a fistful of nails.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it you want?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Direct? Refreshing. I am so sick of underlings shifting from foot to foot.” Renal drank. “I’m in need of a mercenary to perform a particular task.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why me? You’ve many </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span> men.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt Edwin stiffen, almost imperceptibly, but Renal picked up on it, too. He shushed the wizard and stood to brush past him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair question,” he said. “On a normal day, I would not consider it necessary to look beyond my guild.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Normal’s in short supply these days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal stepped too close to her, closer than was friendly. He still smiled, but his eyes were dark. With a light hand, he swapped their cups. “Perhaps you’ll enjoy that one more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pinned between him and the wall, Thalia drank unwillingly, glowering over her cup. Her mind whirled with possibilities — an antidote Renal had taken beforehand, a tailored poison on the rim — but it was only wine. Red. Heavy. Sour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In this,” continued Renal, “the use of my men is limited. I require someone unassociated, someone unknown to them. Even our foul freelancer is useless — though, interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And payment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten thousand.” His eyes wandered her, intimately. “What would you do for ten thousand gold, Thalia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bristled at the look. “What you tell me to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal laughed and the darkness vanished. “A mercenary’s answer! Perhaps we might arrange something later, but, for now, I’ve issues with a chap called Mae’Var. He runs a guildhouse down the way, much as I do here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want him killed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, goodness, no. I’ve my suspicions of him, that his loyalty is turning fairweather. Never liked the man. Without proof, the other guildmasters will be out for my own head. And no one wants a war, even one I would win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what exactly am I to do with this?” Thalia glanced to Edwin, who had silently latched onto the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Distract him,” said Renal. “He’ll be infatuated with a new thiefling. Edwin shall search for evidence, return it to me — and </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> you may kill him. Stay your bloodlust a little while.” Renal raised a hand. “No worries, I’ll provide you letters of transfer. I’m sure you and the Great can figure out a deal. Humour the scoundrel until you can find something concrete. What say you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She considered her wine and drained the rest of it. “One thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me what </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> gets out of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal smiled pleasantly at Edwin, whose lips had paled with rage. “Mutual protection. Spellcasters, especially illegal ones, are a rare commodity. And damned useful. Mae’Var has made good use of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mae’Var?” she asked, eyes narrowed. “The man I’m to kill?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal placed a lithe hand on Edwin’s shoulder. “Oh, master wizard here knows the meaning of loyalty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not to you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll deal with Mae’Var,” she said. “Ten thousand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He extended a hand to shake on it. Moments later, still smiling, Renal produced a pair of sealed letters and wished her luck. Edwin dragged her out with a clawed hand. His anger was palpable, thick in the air. They only made it a few streets. Yoshimo knew he was to vanish, though Thalia suspected he hadn’t gone far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you somehow managed to find an intellect devourer in the night?” he hissed in a whisper. “How stupid are you? What part of </span>
  <em>
    <span>dangerous</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you not understand? Renal Bloodscalp is a powerful man — your ticket to saving that pink rat—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shrugged off his hand. “Don’t you think it’s best for me to know if you’ve got something after you? What sort of protection does he give you? From who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips narrowed further, vanishing. “When I tell you that you don’t need to know, you do — not — need — to know. Get to Mae’Var. Deal with this mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re helping them in this stupid guild war, but what are you getting out of it?” She dug her heels in and, armored, there was no way he could drag her anywhere. “Tell me. Better or worse, we’re stuck with each other right now. I need to know — </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> telling you that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin’s eyebrows lowered and he scowled. “It’s… the Cowled Wizards,” he said unwillingly. “Wizardry is managed bureaucracy, controlled. To work outside it, I required a patron. It’s not an ideal partnership, but it has served its purpose so far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed it, but didn’t believe most of it. It was likely true, but that was not the protection Renal alluded to. The wizard wouldn’t have been so cagey if that was it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone in Athkatla comes to Renal one night,” said Yoshimo, having stopped bothering to pretend he wasn’t listening. “He and this world may be cold and unfeeling — but it is the only world we have. And we all must eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin chewed on his anger, even tenser. She nodded her assent and he led her to another house, on the waterfront. It appeared like any inn, though cramped and empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shall wait, not far,” said Yoshimo with an uneasy look at the barman. “Renal is not the only Shadow Thief who would be unhappy to see me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He vanished before Thalia could say a word, just as Edwin pushed open the door to the back rooms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mae’Var’s guildhouse,” said Edwin. “Go talk to the bastard. Downstairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letters in hand, Thalia found the stairs and braced herself. She would’ve loved to argue. Edwin was still keeping things from her. But, right now, maybe they didn’t matter so much. Ten thousand gold mattered a lot more. Halfway there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing could have prepared her for the basement. She froze on the stair. It was dark, lit by a few candles, the walls naked chipped stone. Firelight glinted off the cages. The air was heavy with the scent of human despair, blood, and fear. There were no instruments of magical torture, no jars of mystical ingredients. But there were prisoners in cages. And knives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone panted, breath choked as he hissed in pain. And a soft purr of a voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia retreated inwards. All that existed was the next step. One step. The stairs were wood, varnished but they creaked under her weight. Rushes scattered on the floor — like any other floor. Straw on plain stone. She stepped through them. She quite liked her boots. Sturdy, supple dark leather, comfortable, whispering across the stones. Steel greaves belted overtop her shins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, then!” said a voice softer than sin. “I certainly hope you’ve got reason to be bothering me, because, well, I’m quite busy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia rose her impassioned eyes from the floor. It was only a man. Graceful, with a cruel face and short beard. He wore a blood-splattered apron over his clothes. Bloodstains continued up his arms, to the dripping knife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now,” said Mae’Var, “if you would excuse me — Ah, poor Lin passed out. I’ve a few minutes to spare, then. Who are you and why shouldn’t I kill you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did not look at Lin, but imagining was worse than the knowing and she glanced over the rack, the naked man who dripped from a hundred cuts. Delicate. Avoiding the arteries. Bruises blossomed in lacey patterns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t threaten me,” said Thalia. She tried to find her voice again, make herself sound like someone to be listened to. “I’ve been sent by men higher in power than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var smiled. He had a beautiful smile. “Not in this room,” he said softly. “Ask Lin who the most powerful person in his life is. Who shall you call master when you are on the rack? Should we find out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She jerked back a step when he advanced. He laughed and stabbed his knife into the table. It stood, quivering like her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pointed a bloody finger. “Fear will keep you honest. You don’t want to end up like Lin, with me having to test your honesty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better he die an honest man than live as a liar and endanger us all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var purred and his eyes graced her differently. “Such thoughts are akin to mine, blackheart. Are those letters for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Transfer.” Thalia struggled to hand them over, her grip iron. Mae’Var didn’t glance once before throwing them on a brazier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” he asked, sitting on the edge of his table. Knives, pliers, and worse devices littered it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia,” she said through gritted teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile returned. “Ah. Edwin has been speaking of you. Rather highly, in fact. Competent, brutal, heartless. You always find a way to get things done. And you fancy the glint of gold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The evaluation bit, harder than she expected — harder still that she knew it wasn’t too far off the mark. The sweet approval of a man like this sickened her. “I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, let me give you a chore. Something amusing, so you don’t dislike me from the start,” he said, standing. He removed the apron and casually sliced Lin’s throat open. Thalia swallowed her gasp. He gurgled wetly as Mae’Var cleaned off his knife, transfixed by the curtain of red. “We do so need a new centerpiece for the dining hall. I’ve been thinking the golden statue of Lathander from the temple might look fetching.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get it,” she said breathlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed you will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She held his eye, dark and foreboding. More predator than man. She couldn’t turn her back on such a creature. Her boots rooted to the ground. A rabbit before a fox. She couldn’t help but stare. He had uncountable weapons right behind him — a newly vacant rack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var smirked. “My, my, the last person to look at me like that was Lin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ran. She ran to the sound of his laughter behind her. Even after making it upstairs, she heard it. She didn’t stop running until she was out on the street. She almost kept going. The influx of fresh sharp air overwhelmed her. Tears choked her throat. She doubled over, feeling like she might vomit. It was alright. She was alive and Mae’Var wanted to keep her alive, for now. Until he found out Renal had sent her to find evidence and kill him. Then, she would be lashed to the rack, to—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stopped herself. She shut her mouth and tried to get her breathing under control. Slowly, she pulled herself from the nightmare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sky above her was too exposed and she checked it for ambush. She felt rather less paranoid when she spotted him. The damned wizard leaned over the balcony above. A red blight on the brown and grey landscape. She climbed the fire escape up to him, though he didn’t look when she leaned next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could’ve warned me what was downstairs.” Even to her, her voice was hoarse and tense. A frightened child. She gripped the ledge hard enough her fingers ached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t feel like it,” he said with a smirk. “Perhaps you will learn to keep your nose out of others’ business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All I’ve learned is that I can’t trust you. At all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Edwin had always been untrustworthy, upfront with his desire to bring her back to Thay and abuse the divinity. Somehow, over the tendays of her catatonia, she had thought maybe things had changed. That he had helped out of some lingering decency. That his honesty of his unpleasantness meant he was honest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen to me, wench,” he began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to her. “Thalia,” he said reluctantly, “there are a great many troubles in this world that cannot be met with a sword and enough tenacity. Some walls do not crack when you bludgeon them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped, thinking of Gorion, how he had not risen when she slew his murderer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said calmly. “You don’t. You have no respect for your superiors — in any way. Sometimes lips must be mashed onto boots. The Shadow Thieves rules this city as well as any Cowled Wizard, as any of the Council of Six. Renal could retract your deal, lock us both up, sell us to Neverwinter mages — on a whim. Much the same as those Cowls—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let them,” she growled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try to recover at least a distant sense of self-preservation, before we are all victims of your fatalism.” He sighed. “I will attempt to be more mindful of your own weakness. Are you satisfied?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted. His words shamed her, just as her own reaction to seeing Mae’Var and Lin. Jaheira would say she needed time to process, to grieve her own pain. Gorion would’ve said the same thing. Thalia just wanted to hit something. It was an instinct she had had all her life. Was it Bhaal’s, truly? How much of her was independent from it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently, many other such children are dying,” said Edwin, as though he could read her thoughts. “It’s strengthening. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>mage hand</span>
  </em>
  <span> you summoned? Keeping it invisible is an old thieves’ trick, though it requires a command of arcane power and mental acumen not typically seen in vagrants — or northerners,” he added, inclining to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It frightens me,” she muttered. She couldn’t bare saying such a thing to Jaheira, who would fret and seek a way to suppress or dig it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naturally,” said Edwin. “Death ought be frightening, but you are in a unique position to command it. Your power serves you. Don’t curse something most would kill for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not. I don’t — I don’t want rid of it.” Thalia stood fully. “I just wish I knew what to expect the next night, and the night after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one, not even a master of Divination, knows what comes next. That is the curse of mortals.” The wizard, for a brief moment, seemed almost melancholy. It left as suddenly as it came. “Now, go. Attend to what banal task Mae’Var set you and try not to blunder it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yoshimo is lurking down the street,” she said, spotting the bounty hunter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would rather not involve the shifty and untrustworthy thief in a scheme where our lives dangle by a thread held by a sadistic street thug.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be so sour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mae’Var will flay us both with a smile if he discovers something he mislikes.” Edwin raised a hand, ignoring Thalia’s grimace of fear. “Do what you want. You will regardless, I am sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitated before leaving — not because she objected spitefully to doing what she was told. Instead, because she felt she should’ve said something. A recognition, of some kind. She stayed silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia made the journey back to the inn on her own. She had to take more worn main streets, but found it without incident. Viconia was perplexed but not offended at the larceny. The Temple of Lathander was no issue at all. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> was something Anomen did not need know about. Setting the task only made Thalia think of Imoen, all the pockets the girl had picked, drawers and closets rooted through for the thrill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frighteningly quickly, Viconia returned with a small golden statue tucked under her cloak. A handsome man holding a baby aloft, balanced on a sphere that showed the dawning sun. Diamonds and rubies glimmered as sunlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sighed. Lathander would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>pissed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to lose this. “Thank you, Viconia. I never could’ve done that myself — you made it look easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hardly need your compliments.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling her eyes, Thalia decided there was no talking to Viconia in this state. Whatever happened since they had last parted ways would have to be left for another time. She returned to Mae’Var’s guildhall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With difficulty, she managed the stairs. One foot in front of the other. And then the next. The air wafted over her, familiar with despair. There was no one there. Except for Lin. Thalia found herself strangely drawn to the abused corpse. The pain clearly wrought across his body contrasted with the peaceful face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking to join him?” asked Mae’Var from behind her. “Or, perhaps interested in learning the trade?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia felt much better with the table of torture tools between them. She set the statue down on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var smiled. “Seems like you have a few skills to go with your pretty name after all.” He lifted the statue, caressing the gold. “Gaudy, isn’t it? I’ll toss it in with the rest going to Waterdeep. Lots of dainty collectors up there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Payment?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the talkative one? You’ll get paid when it’s sold, but if it’s a reward you seek, I might have something for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much gold?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It should be an honour just to be asked,” he said, sliding around the table. Mae’Var’s hand glided over the knives. He straightened one in its line as he thought. “I’ll have something special when you return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it clinks, I’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started, then grinned. “You don’t even know what it is!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter. I’ll take the job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” He crooked a finger and beckoned. “I like to hear that. Come closer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia took a hesitant step forwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Closer. Closer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could smell the cold mint on his breath. She stared him down. He was not nearly as scary as he thought he was. Mae’Var reached a slow deliberate hand and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Her breath sharpened, but he didn’t do anything. He only held it — to show he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var shushed her, running a finger down her lips. “There is a traitor among us,” he whispered, breath warm on her face. “One has abused the trust freely gifted and must be dealt with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia steadied herself, though her heart pounded. It seemed to rattle the walls. Did Mae’Var already know Renal suspected him? He knew why she was here. He was going—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He graced over his knives again, selecting one. A long, wicked-looking curved dagger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All she could do was confess, hope to enrage him so that he could kill her quick.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fear will keep you honest.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia bit her tongue until it bled, coppery and salty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Embarl is his name,” said Mae’Var, drinking in her terror. “A northerner, yellow hair like you. He’s at the Sea’s Bounty, across the road. Kill him with this and then return it to me, bloody. Dripping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He offered her the dagger and, with a delicate touch, released her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> consider a traitor?” she asked coldly. “Must either be saint or devil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saint,” he said without a second thought. “He has no place in this line of work. For others, well.” He chuckled. The dagger’s handle stroked her cheekbone. “For others, it is in our blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia would enjoy killing Mae’Var.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took the dagger. His approval sickened her far more than Edwin’s did. By comparison, the wizard was as mild-tempered and respectful as a kitten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the dank of that basement, it was quite a nice dagger. All black — the leather grip, the onyx stone, and the painted blade. It reflected no light and seemed to eat it. Thinking as to what Mae’Var had used it for made it lose its shine. She felt Yoshimo’s eyes still on her from the dark of the alley and she thought of what Edwin had said. They rarely knew him. That, in and of itself, made him untrustworthy. Only time would fix that, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Sea’s Bounty was a rough and salty tavern of sailors and smugglers. Rougher in a different way to the Copper Coronet. The groups sitting together were large and jovial. Crews and dockhands enjoyed a break before the end of day, each singing their own song. And loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Embarl stood out. He sat alone in a corner and was the only one to not share the same dark Amnian look. His hair was yellow as straw and grey freckles spackled his face. He knocked over his tankard and skittered backwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! You — You’re here to kill me? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please!</span>
  </em>
  <span> T-Tell Mae’Var it was all a misunderstanding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia kept the dagger in hand but soothed her voice. “Tell him yourself. I’m supposed to fetch you and bring you back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hope dashed through him. “No,” he said, desperate. “No. He — He wouldn’t. He wants me dead. I overheard — The only place I’m going back in that godsforsaken guildhouse is on a rack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A rack, a little suffering, and a chance to survive — to take your vengeance and build life anew,” she said. She flipped the dagger in her hand. “Or die here and now. Your choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I — I am still a Shadow Thief!” cried Embarl. “You’ll not take me so easily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nearest singing stopped and faces turned to the newfound entertainment. A fiddle picked up pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached</span>
  </em>
  <span> an invisible hand for the stool in front of Embarl. As he unsheathed his own shortsword, the stool pushed back into him and knocked him flat. Sailors hollered. She charged and tried to pouce, but he kicked the stool at her. The sudden hit knocked the wind out of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, then, he vanished. Thalia tensed, spinning. He must’ve swallowed an invisibility potion — or a spell, or scroll. She kept her back to the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sharp cold pain stabbed straight through her chainmail, sending links scattering. Purple sparks flew from the blade. Embarl became suddenly visible, gritting his teeth right in front of her, sword inches into her side. He ripped it out, prepared to thrust it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted and drew a sharp knee up between his legs. He doubled over, dropping his sword. Sailors collectively winced, cackling when she smashed his nose into her knee. He collapsed. Dazed and losing blood, she fell on top of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky,” she grunted. “I’m fucking merciful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var’s dagger sunk through the leather, scraping on bone as it entered his chest. A single hard thrust. Blood watered down her hand, hot and vital. Life faded to fear and then silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sailors whooped for the fight. Thalia staggered to her feet, clutching her side. She threw a copper to the one nearest. “Get his body in the sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She picked up Embarl’s shortsword. Nice bit of kit. Magical too, it seemed. Sharp little bastard, as the wound in her side could attest to. Bleeding and dazed, she stumbled back across the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Athkatla certainly is more interesting when viewed from the underbelly,” said Yoshimo briskly from a darkened shadow. His eyes glanced without concern over her blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As opposed to what, the overbelly?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed. Why, just look around! Drunken sailors, honest merchants, daylight thieves and murderers alike — much to see for those with eyes.” He smiled, eyes black as cinder. “Such as purses and lives that ought be… relieved of their owners.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His light words fell heavy on the blood that poured from her. They chilled through her. Perhaps she was too soft-hearted. Perhaps she only needed a drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a cold world, Thalia,” he said with something approaching sympathy. “I’m sorry, but it’s the one we live in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo’s smile followed her as she put a bloody hand on the guildhouse door. Mae’Var, thankfully, wasn’t in his basement. He sat at the bar with an ale. She took a certain amount of pleasure in the stunned look he gave her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t even wait for dark.” He recovered himself and clicked his fingers at the barman. “And a health potion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I have?” Thalia winced as she climbed onto a stool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a nasty little piece of work,” said Mae’Var softly. “How does a storied northern hero come to be such a coldblooded killer?” He leaned forward, a spark of oddly civil interest in his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen. It all came back to Imoen. Thalia had killed Embarl to appease Mae’Var — so that he could stay distracted — so that Edwin could search for proof of the guildmaster’s betrayal — so that Renal could let her execute him — so that she could earn ten thousand gold — so that she could have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>chance</span>
  </em>
  <span> of saving Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, Thalia felt a nagging sliver of doubt. Colder than the stab. Somewhere, along the way, she had become someone to whom the ends mattered more than the means. Perhaps she always had been. If Imoen had not been in danger, Thalia would never have been caught dead amongst the Shadow Thieves, let alone at the bar with a creature like Mae’Var. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia slammed the dagger on the bar, alongside Embarl’s shortsword. “Want his blood? You can lick it off my hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t sound so wretched. I might think you didn’t enjoy it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bartender slid her a shot of a murky green-tinted liquid that smelled of foul herbs. It burned going down, but the pain in her side melted to numbness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt Mae’Var’s eyes on her as she suppressed her grunt of pain. Thalia had never caught men’s attention, not that it had bothered her. Years of training with armor and weapons had left her shoulders too broad, her thighs and arms thick. While blonde, her hair was dull and ashen, her features common. Even if the only thing Mae’Var was attracted to was her pain, she didn’t know what to do with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw how you looked at Lin, at my setup downstairs, the resignation as you tensed under my grip. You’ve known a knife as a lover,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia couldn’t look at those eyes. Sadistic, intimate, yet softened by understanding. Cruel world that a torturer might understand what she carried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It broke you,” he said. “Changed you. Charged you. Carved you into a sharper shape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bartender pulled her a pint, which she gladly drank. The brown ale slid bitterly down her throat, malty and nutty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Knives are the sweetest of lovers,” continued Mae’Var. His voice caressed her, almost friendly. “Never heard anyone scream more in bed than at the business end of a blade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps that say more of you than the knife,” said Thalia brusquely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled. “Humour. Recklessness. Aggression. Bloodlust. Scar tissue left behind, new layers ready to be flayed open.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gripped her tankard, head bowed. “Are you going to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left her question hang, hollow in the air. “No. Not at all. Though, do know I will dream of you, dearest. You, me, and the sweetest of lovers — before those scars leave you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The interest turned her stomach, but she couldn’t stop herself from turning to him and blurting, “They will? Leave me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In time.” He reached a slow hand and, when she didn’t recoil, brushed a strand of sweaty hair from her forehead. “Why would you want to revert to your old shape? I’m sure you were… noble and sanctimonious and far less efficient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was good,” she whispered. The word ripped her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were a slave to the world, as most are. No matter. In time, I will teach you what it means to enslave the world.” Mae’Var took his dagger back, unbothered by the blood. “Keep Bolt. You’ll get a good price for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia found her voice again. “You promised something special, if I killed him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My praise,” said Mae’Var slyly. “I’ve decided to gift you your life and only you can decide how much it is worth.” He stood. “Stay the night. My bed, my rack — or the third floor. I’m sure your Red Wizard is there, somewhere. Welcome to my guildhouse, Thalia. It has been and will be a pleasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wish I could say likewise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var smirked. “You will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he left her, Thalia downed the rest of the ale and took Bolt, the magical shortblade still wet with her blood. Part of her wanted to jump in the sea. The rest wanted to sleep, blood in the sheets be damned. She trudged upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third floor held a dozen beds, as well as a few more private rooms. She knocked at the one nearest. Within, Edwin cursed and opened it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes,” he hissed. “Get in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His room was rather better appointed than the one Thalia had in the Copper Coronet. Tapestries hung across the walls and the candlesticks looked to be silver. She sat with a groan and lit the rest. As she stepped into the light, the wizard stared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before you get to it, may I neutralize the standard adventurer quip of it </span>
  <em>
    <span>not being your blood.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it is,” she said. “Mae’Var gave me a health potion. It’ll be fine by morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky for your own recklessness, I have managed to turn over each stone and lockpick, using my own superior position as the master’s right-hand…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reckless. Thalia thought again of Mae’Var as she tuned the wizard out. Despite the disturbing lust in his eyes, there had been something. A sense of genuinity. It had to be an act. The other option, that he had bought her own act, read her pain, and felt kinship, was unthinkable. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. He was a foul beast, best put down. She had killed finer friends before. To kill Dynaheir and Minsc, betray their trust and respect Mae’Var’s — it would be unnaturally cruel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Didn’t make it any easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The right hand oft does not know what the left does, as it has — are you listening to me?” snapped Edwin, outraged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you find anything?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scowled. “Yes. I managed to break into his quarters and found these documents — which you are so helpfully using to balance your elbow. Off!” He snatched them back and she slunk in her chair. “He has been courting the Night Knives, to bolster his own position. This one requests Renal’s death, leaving Mae’Var as the highest ranking master of the city. The alliance would give the Shadow Thieves inways back into Westgate, Waterdeep. Masterfully planned, but I have seen through it. Linvail might even approve. Unfortunately, Linvail did not hire us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take it to Renal, then,” she said dimly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin narrowed his eyes. “I do intend to land on the winning side of this. Air your grievances or swallow them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m tired of killing people who trust me.” She scoffed. “Is that such a sin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mae’Var knows his ambition is dangerous to his continued breathing.” He tapped the documents. “He secured these in the magical lockbox I prepared for him. Trust is a gambit. The rules of this game of deception are ones he knows well. It was a gamble. Many times, they pay off. Not tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia slid a hand down her face and shrugged. “You’re right. I know. Take it to Renal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll wait until the morn. Thieves might be nocturnal, but Renal won’t appreciate being pestered outside business hours. Spend the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if I can stay here,” said Thalia, standing. “I’ll curl up on the floor, it’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard glared. “This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> room. There are quarters for ruffians outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bit worried he’ll stab me with more than a knife in the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew the bastard would like you,” said Edwin smugly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not exactly flattered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood. “Perhaps I shall bring things to Renal tonight. By morn, Mae’Var’s fickle fondness might wear off. Wait. Once I return with Renal’s blessing, you may strike in the black of night. Summon a backbone in the meanwhile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted her assent. He didn’t need it. After gathering his things, the wizard left her alone without another word and only her thoughts to keep her company. Thalia had passed by a dining hall of thieves below. Others trained with locks and mannequins with coats of bells. Every time they jingled, the trainee cursed and the others laughed heartily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did any truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mae’Var? He struck her as an unlikable sort. Would they sorrow to see their guildmaster killed or did it not matter who ruled them? Were any in on his plot? Had he put any of them under the knife — and had any survived?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his dresser, the wizard had a bowl of water. A cursory investigation told her it wasn’t magical and she rinsed her hands. The water turned deep pink, her reflection warbling in its surface. She winced as she shuffled off the broken chain before any other links could be lost. A blacksmith could repair it. The greaves and bracers unlatched in her shaking hands. Taking off the sword belt made her feel vulnerable — naked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was a noble thing. Killing a guildmaster of the criminal underworld. Mae’Var was sadistic, disloyal, brutal, callow with his favour. Better for the city that he was killed. She shouldn’t have second thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But not because it was noble. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why would you want to revert to your old shape? I’m sure you were… noble and sanctimonious and far less efficient.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt like an assassin. A hired sword, not to save lives, or clear the roads, or kill monsters, but to backstab a man whose trust she had gained. If she hadn’t killed Embarl, she had no doubt another would shortly. Renal had reached outside the guild for her. She had no loyalty to him. She couldn’t care who won between him and Mae’Var or any other guildmaster, or even the guild they warred with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter what came next, no matter how many Aeries and Quayles she saved, Thalia would always know what she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was loyal to Imoen — to a depth that scared her. What if Edwin was right? What if He killed her? What if she failed? What if it was all for nothing? What if she went so far down the path there was no way back?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened and startled her. It was only Edwin. He nodded and clicked his fingers at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal had given him the go-ahead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed her fears. “Find a buyer for that sword. I never want to see it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin glanced at Bolt but, before he could ask a question, she had brushed past him. Word must’ve spread about her. Downstairs, the thieves gave her odd looks but no one stopped her. She realised her tunic still had a bloodstained rip in its side. Another scar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After braving the basement, she had to ask after Mae’Var. The bartender directed her to a bedroom on the second floor. Thalia knocked. She hadn’t brought any weapons. The thought of getting elbow deep in rotting flesh again turned her stomach, but she had to practice it. Control it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var answered the door, a keen look in his eye. “Let me guess,” he said, opening the door fully and raising a finger. “You’re here to tell me you’re leaving, don’t ever expect to return — but I’ll find you at my door again the next tenday. Am I close?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Edwin is piss-poor company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled and stepped aside. He turned his back on her and she almost struck. The exposed neck, the narrow shoulders. He was nimble, not strong. She could’ve overpowered him with surprise—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he drunk?” asked Mae’Var delightedly. “That’s even worse. Fear not, thiefling, you may take refuge in my bed this night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He poured them measures of a cloudy violet spirit. When he turned back and she reluctantly took the cup, he smiled. She downed the shot. The burn wrung tears wrung from her eyes and she coughed, spluttering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var laughed and patted her on the back, before pouring her another. “Try sipping this one.” His dark eyes danced as he sipped his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grit her teeth and downed the second. It went down easier, tasteless and painful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stubborn,” he said approvingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stroked her hair and her skin crawled — not from disgust, but shame. She hadn’t intended for him to think she came to bed him. Just a new shade of blood on her hands. Mae’Var fingered the rip in her tunic, the pink partly-sealed wound. Thalia winced. He licked his lips slowly. If he hurt her, she would feel a lot better about killing him. She could strike. Call it self-defence in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pity,” he whispered. “You wear pain beautifully, but I want you to survive the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” she said flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var chuckled and turned from her — again. He had already admitted he wanted to hurt her, would kill her if he didn’t find her useful. She knew how to break necks. One sharp jerk—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened the drawer next to his bed and pulled out a knife. He handled the dagger deftly, delicately, like an artist with his paintbrush. The bed creaked as he sprawled out, waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia approached slowly. She could knock him off balance, get him to drop the dagger. A moment of surprise and she could drive it deep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var’s eyes met hers. Dark and friendly, lined with crow’s feet. And they became other eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What haunts you?” he asked. “It’s not merely the knife. What names do the shadows in your eyes bear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’re you sure I’m haunted?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “Because I see those eyes in my own mirror. If I cannot love you with a blade, let me have your fear. Come. Lay with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bed was small for two, she realised too late, and he was rather closer than she would’ve liked. His breath smelled of mint. His dark eyes held her prisoner. Had it only been hours ago they had met?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Death changes all of us,” he said. “But fear halts us. A single mote breeds and breeds, taking us over to the whimsy of terror. What do you fear?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid of failing her,” whispered Thalia before she realised she had even spoken. “I’m — sorry, this was—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var shushed her and tenderly stroked her hair. “Who is she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was dead. Already, he was dead. Why not?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sister. She’ll die if I can’t save her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love her,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So much. She’s been my life since we were children.” She swallowed. “It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> job to keep her out of trouble — not easy. She…” Thalia smiled wetly. “She’s a thief. And she would hate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var laughed softly. “Most do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Thalia thought again. “She made a friend out of a drow, though. Charmed her, determinedly cheerful, until she eventually gave in and hugged her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodness. I hope I never meet her. And she’s missing now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia nodded, the fond memory of Imoen vanishing like smoke through her fingers. “Captured. She could be dead by the time I get there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’ll be all alone, hmm?” he said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears gathered in her eyes. That single word became the pivot of her mind. Candlekeep was not her home any longer. Gorion was dead. Imoen… Alone. And the world only grew larger and stranger and more dangerous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would do anything to save her and…” Thalia was suddenly desperate for him, for anyone to understand. “It’s supposed to be heroic, maybe? That nothing and no one can stand in my way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fear becoming less than yourself along the way, finding the faces of others to fit better than your own,” he said knowingly, impartially. “Still alive, yet less than a memory of good noble Thalia. A little voice in the back of the mind of something far greater — so easily ignored.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As her tears fell, he smiled and cradled her face. Even spoken, nothing alleviated the fear. It only burned in her gut. What she most dreaded, she knew, would come to pass. Bhaal would win. What was she to stand against a god and destiny? And if Imoen died… She had promised to help Thalia stay on the right path. Alone, she would fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears fell faster and her breath caught. She fell back, as far away from Mae’Var as the bed allowed. She repressed a sob, but only just. “I’m so scared,” she whimpered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sharp cold point traced her cheek. The knife sharpened her fear, evaporating her thoughts to steam. Breath pierced her lungs, but, then it vanished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var looked down at her hungrily. And she remembered what she was here to do. The predatory look made it much easier, but she couldn’t raise a hand. There had been so much death already. Even if he fed on her fears, on her pain, it was someone to listen to her. He could even do it well. She was so tired of killing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var sat back, tired of the bloodless game. He sighed. “It was too convenient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stared. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had descriptions of the marks — they were my men, though I wasn’t among them,” he said. “Supposedly mere heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Two half-elven Harpers. Two young northern women, one of orange hair, the other yellow. Possibly, a drow and a Red Wizard.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s mouth grew dry. She remembered that night. Fleeing Baldur’s Gate in the darkness on horseback, free under false pretenses. Crossbow bolts took the horses out from under them. An ambush. And Him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Shadow Thieves had captured them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var shook his head. “A lot of coin. Impossible to refuse, said Linvail. Simple job. And, one of my boys hears the word.” He turned to her. The tip of his dagger traced the edge of her face and she stiffened at the edge. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Bhaalspawn.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t breathe. Her heart hammered painfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Small miracle,” he said. “We get into a war with Bodhi’s lot and Linvail says we revoke our last contract. No one crosses the Shadow Thieves and lives — or, well, whatever they do.” He smirked. “Come, now. Where’s that voice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fear will keep you honest.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You assaulted the complex,” she whispered. “You blew a hole in Waukeen’s Promenade, tried to kill Irenicus. Freed us, in the chaos. After…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, after kidnapping you,” said Mae’Var genially. “Eight months. And he had the self restraint to not kill you. A walking saint.” His eyes swept her. “If I had known what we were leaving down there to rot…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wetness gathered in her eyes and, against her best efforts, a tear trickled down. Thalia grit her teeth. Every inch of her shook. Nothing kept her there, not even the threat of the knife. There was no danger. He did not hold her or pin her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing but fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var admitted he wanted her alive. He didn’t know Renal sent her. The ache of her own confessions, her own vulnerability burned in her for shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an amaetur, compared to him,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. “That is the trouble with elves — centuries to perfect their craft. I must content myself with being simply extraordinary. Irenicus’ study material was rather mum on what exactly a Bhaalspawn is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to tell you,” she said, disbelieving. “After I spilled what’s left of my soul?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was foreplay, dear. Do it now and I’ll be nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var was only a man. Thalia felt herself distance from the knife. He did not have the powers of Irenicus, the illusions, the screams of Imoen echoing down dank halls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he had was a pointy stick. And a death warrant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a child of the Lord of Murder,” whispered Thalia. She pressed against him and, confused, he lowered the knife. “I hold part of his divinity — as do all my other siblings. Each time one of them dies, it grows stronger. I’m more than a sorcerer. I contain the power of the god of death and, more and more often, I find myself unable to resist. One night, I know it’ll have its way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” said Mae’Var breathlessly, as the dagger hit the floor, “you’ve certainly come to the right place. If Embarl is to your tune, we’ll work well together.” He moved on top of her, his hand sliding up under her tunic, against her skin. He smiled softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shut her eyes. Ten thousand gold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae’Var pressed his lips to hers, his kiss hungry, his hand in her hair. Cold mint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Shadow Thieves capturing them on the road to freedom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand knotted in his shirt and she pushed hard, pressing him into the bed under her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The dagger slid, metal on wood, as it flew into her hand. Mae’Var’s kiss startled, but she hilted the dagger in his chest and clamped a hand over his mouth. The scream was hot against her fingers. His face twisted under her grasp — not hatred. Shock. Betrayal. Not a man in battle, but a victim of murder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a pleasure,” she whimpered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia jerked the dagger once, twice, before she was content he was truly dead. His face had slackened, though his eyes were still shocked. The bed couldn’t absorb all the lifeblood that flowed. It puddled, wet and sticky. The room was achingly silent, as though it knew it had become a tomb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia lay next to the corpse, her mind throbbing in tandem to her heart. She did not know how long she lingered. Unable to think. Barely able to breathe. She did not know why she cried.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Sparrow and the Cage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies. Most of my chapters are long, but not as long as this, but there are a few that are.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eventually, the wizard came to investigate. He shepherded Thalia into new clothes and locked Mae’Var’s room before returning to Renal, who made them a gift of a bag of holding to hold their coin. He wished them luck. He promised to knock ten thousand off their debt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A debt that was entirely their fault. Luck they needed because of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eight months. For coin, the Shadow Thieves had stolen eight months, Imoen’s freedom, Thalia’s sanity, and Khalid’s life. Murdering Mae’Var had done nothing about it. It was as virtuous as killing Edwin. Both had it coming and were bad influences, but could’ve been useful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia did not manage to return to the present until Edwin let go of the iron grip he had on her elbow. She collapsed almost at once into a table. Details came one by one, then all at once. Rough wood table under her fingers. A bowl of soft round grain, heavy with herbs and fresh vegetables. Singing and shouting, wordless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Copper Coronet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eat,” said Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ate. She tasted nothing but mint. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t ask you that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought you’d want to know, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira raised an eyebrow. Her hawkish eyes were soft, too soft, and Thalia looked away again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much did they pay?” asked Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo appeared, behind Jaheira and sat next to her. “Ten thousand. A tidy sum for a hit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira sighed. “Compensation, at least. For now, recover. Get some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia slept. Not well. She bathed and picked the blood out of her nails. Jaheira seemed determined to get her into clothes each morning and, even silent, sit with them in the barroom and eat. She ate. She stayed silent. Mostly, she grieved for what remained of the girl of Candlekeep. She never would’ve worked for such criminal cutthroats, let alone taken Renal’s assassination mission, obeyed Mae’Var’s orders without a blink, or killed him with his kiss on her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You fear becoming less than yourself along the way, finding the faces of others to fit better than your own… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia felt she had been disassembled and hurriedly put back together. Vaguely, she still looked right. But something was wrong. She wasn’t herself, and she never would be again. Somehow, she had to live with that.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Still alive, yet less than a memory of good noble Thalia. A little voice in the back of the mind of something far greater — so easily ignored… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A hesitant hand knocked at her door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not the wizard, then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia crawled out of bed and opened the door, surprised to find Anomen. He had armored himself, gleaming steel, a blue cloak of Helm at his shoulders — more ceremonial than a traveling cloak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, my lady,” he said with a slight bow. His sleek brown hair curled a touch and was especially sleek today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning. Can I help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen closed the door behind him. “I’ve been thinking, oft and deeply, of the sweet young Imoen Jaheira has told me of. She mentioned a man named Gorion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sat and gestured. She had a spare cup, from the previous day. Coffee had dried a brown stain on the pottery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sworn by Helm to not partake of substances that alter the mind,” said Anomen apologetically. “I am to keep my mind and body pure, as I do Helm’s will across the land. My vow binds me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds rough,” she said. “My sympathies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen bristled, but didn’t argue as she drank her own cold coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gorion was the drive behind our time north,” said Thalia unwillingly. “He was murdered. I sought vengeance. It was… complicated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was much a father, so I’ve heard,” he said in a quiet voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was a good man who meant well. I…” She swallowed, though found there to be no pain at the memories. “I shall miss him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something almost like pain pierced Anomen’s knightly facade. “I am rather jealous of that, I must admit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My own father, the Lord Cor, is nothing of the sort.” In spite of himself, Anomen reached for the cup, though pulled his hand back. “Were Lord Cor not deep in his cups, he was demanding I uphold the family honour — which I did worthlessly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What father doesn’t want a knight as a son?” asked Thalia, bemused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled. “Knighthood is… not honourable, to most. It is a religious devotion, a calling of the heart, but it is moreso the fanciful delusions of third sons and useless heirs. Delusions given by northern bards. Lord Cor loathed it when his only son entered the Order. Honour comes from status, from gold, from business conducted to Tymora and Waukeen and… Cyric.” He grimaced. “Prince of Lies. The great, good, and just gods have little place here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She inspected him as she sipped her coffee. Bitterly, she swallowed her medicine. She, who was in no position to judge anyone, had judged Anomen. He wasn’t much any older than her. Young enough to rue mistakes, to have a hot head, and poor shields to deal with people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What of your sister?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moira,” said Anomen. He folded his hands. “I… I do not wish to speak of her. That’s not why I’m here this morn to trouble you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s no trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corners of his mouth picked up. “The Order does not pay well and I am not on good terms with my father’s bankers, else I would’ve found more.” He stood. “When the time comes, you will have an additional two thousand gold to your fund for sweet Imoen—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia choked on the coffee and spluttered, “Two </span>
  <em>
    <span>thousand?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Twelve. Twelve thousand. Twelve and a half, thereabouts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than halfway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he said, troubled. “It isn’t enough, but we will raise more for this princely sum. With Helm’s grace, we will serve the people and the realms until we find the coppers and reach Spellhold. The devilish wizards will regret taking her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” said Thalia deeply. There was nothing more she could say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s smile grew and he bowed fully, clasped fist over his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stern knock tapped the door and, before Thalia could answer, Jaheira poked her head around. “Am I interrupting something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen stood. “No, not at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I’m afraid I must borrow our fearless leader a moment.” Jaheira watched Anomen leave with a friendly face, though she shut the door and locked it. Despite the hour, Jaheira, too, already wore her armor, though the studded leather was too battle-beaten to have the similar valor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s too early for danger,” complained Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The balance will not wait for a more convenient time.” Jaheira took the seat Anomen had recently vacated. Despite her confident manner, she seemed awkward. “Sometimes, the proper course is hard to see. Impossible, even. What is best, overall, might appear barbaric but it makes it no less necessary to the way of things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia snorted. “Are you trying to comfort me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither of us are much for heart-to-hearts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sombered them both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” said Jaheira quietly, “we are both quite missing the balances on the other end of our scales.” She took a deep breath. “But that is beside the point. What do you know of tieflings?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shrugged. “Not a lot. Part-fiends. Horns. Often feared or enslaved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tieflings carry no more inclination of their parentage than you do, though they can be mischievous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might not be the best example, but I understand. Go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira sighed. “Very well. Regardless, the proprietor of the Coronet has told me of a troupe, recently come from Sigil — a city of the Astral Plane. They might be able to shed some insight on your… predicament.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stretched and groaned. Another restless night had left her stiff. “What sort of troupe are these tieflings? Are they dangerous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira’s face darkened. “Absolutely. They are actors. Arm yourself well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia did. The armorsmith had repaired her chain and finished sewing the padding. The chain sat better over the leather and linen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you given any thought to what you will tell Anomen?” asked Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He won’t know,” she said simply. “My history is irrelevant to saving Imoen — </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the quest he agreed to. No more, no less. My own lineage is—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A concern for all who care about you,” said Jaheira gravely. “Don’t even dare to think you will face this alone — even after Irenicus meets his grisly end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s chest swelled at the words and blocked off any words. She only nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen, unsurprisingly, was in a fine mood at the day’s activities. When Thalia knocked, Viconia didn’t answer her door. Ten minutes of weedling later, she opened it. She hadn’t bothered with her veil and coverings, leaving her white hair and obsidian skin to be seen. Thalia smiled, but received no greeting in kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as they left the inn, the wizard seemed to discover the same sixth sense he had in the Sword Coast. He manifested, dogging their shadows. Yoshimo, too, appeared from them with a laugh and began to pester Anomen about his favourite topic. Anomen’s own glorious battles. With Viconia’s heritage, they garnered many more fearful eyes. Some even hateful. Others bowed in respect, or smiling tersely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira continued to fill Anomen in on their adventures. Thalia caught the pain in her voice as she spoke of Khalid, but Anomen listened graciously. Then, of course, the Nashkel mines had reminded him of his own forays to help a logging town on the frontier… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia muttered something under her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” asked Thalia, grateful for any distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s lips tensed, but she answered, “Uusta sarol zhah sik lul elg’cah gareth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My weapon is ever-sharp and my poison strong.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It is… a drow saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia struggled to repeat the words, but her effort earned her a softer glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try again. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>uu</span>
  </em>
  <span> rakes the back of the throat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she had repeated it to her approval, she asked what it meant, truly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I will prevail</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” said Viconia stiffly. “And I will, in this world of yours, if it is the last Shar-cursed thing I do in this life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will. You always have. You’re one determined woman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not attempt to win me through compliments, kivvil,” she said sharply. Her hand slipped off her shortblade as they left the slums and the throngs of people. “Though, I thank you. I will prevail. It may take some further lives, but I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thought came to her. “Would you teach me more drow? If only to translate your insults.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s mouth twisted. It might’ve been a smile, were her eyes not so dark. “If you insist, but do not think to rise above your station.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never dream of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They followed the flush of the canals to a muggier part of the city. Tanners and dyers filled the air with acrid smells. Scant beggars sat on hard hot cobbles, rather than the mud of the slums. The cement buildings changed to wood, rickety and termite-ridden. On a higher floor, a woman hung out her washing on a line suspended over the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, well before noon, a pair of corpses lay in open display.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two ragged-looking men argued over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was telling you, it’s only going to get worse,” one said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other scoffed. “That one, here in my tavern only last night. Just because he was in with the Shadow Thieves, doesn’t mean you should refuse to serve them. Gotta refuse half the city if you bar that lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got his own trouble, in the end, looks like. They don’t scare me any. Look at them, Rashin. Dead as dead gets — and their black little hoods didn’t help them one bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ho, there,” started Jaheira, but the two men took one look at them and split. She rolled her eyes sharply and bent to investigate the men. Even keeping her distance, Thalia knew they had been dead hours. Late in the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thieves looked quite unharmed, if dead. Their skin greyed and sickly-looking, a touch waxy. No blood had been spilt. Nothing lay at odd angles. Not killed by magic either. But the murderers hadn’t taken anything, so it had not been a simple burglary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira knelt down among them and began at the fastenings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Must you?” asked Thalia wearily. “I mean—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s sharp gasp stopped her. Jaheira’s fingers had paused on the lapels of one of the thieves. And she inspected the other — undoing the leather latch, pushing down his collar. The second hadn’t fared as well. He had had his throat ripped out, four distinct teeth marks scraping flesh and vein aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other had a pair of bruised marks at his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victims of the vampire,” drawled Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know of this, foul cur?” said Anomen, rounding as the wizard attempted to join their company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nay, I merely have eyes to see and an impressive repository of learning to reference — though any child ought have seen fangmarks in the neck and accurately deduced a vampire attack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia laughed coldly. “Truly? You’ve hungry-dead running about your city?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not usually,” said Jaheira, standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The guild war,” said Thalia, her blood running cold. “The Shadow Thieves said they’re warring with another guild, one…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed,” said Edwin. “If these are becoming so bold, Linvail might well become desperate. War suits him ill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bodhi’s coven has been tainting the underbelly’s underbelly for years now,” said Yoshimo. Even his smile drooped. “She has always had more sense, though. Hopefully, it is only a lone servant run amok.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still heard Mae’Var’s last words. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We get into a war with Bodhi’s lot and Linvail says we revoke our last contract. No one crosses the Shadow Thieves and lives — or, well, whatever they do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“These beasts are some of the greatest affronts to nature,” said Jaheira grimly. “Walking corpses, soulless, evil. A lone rampaging vampire is not something to make light of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira left the bodies behind reluctantly, leading them into an inn by the canal. Five Flagons. At this hour, the bar supported only a few lonely drunkards. The bartender perked up when they entered, but quickly scowled when they mentioned the troupe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye, Raelis’ lot are in the basement — </span>
  <em>
    <span>rehearsing</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The basement’s benches held a few… people. Thalia had no better word. By shape, they were quite human-looking, but they had been coloured by jewels. Pale jade, sapphire, rusted ruby, opal — hair and skin, and curled black horns poked through. The faces, too, appeared almost elven. Beautiful, but even sharper, the lips even riper. Tieflings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gold-skinned man on the stage cackled. “Oh, your lover has abandoned thee, sweet Lunisia. You’ve only one option left. Turnest to me, and let us be wed at last!” He leered towards her with a liquid grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A robed pink woman cried out, “No, Kirinaldo, I cannot! Oh, Rodrigo, Rodrigo! My love, where hast thou gone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lone human stood out as he crossed the stage awkwardly. “Uh… here I am! H-Here I am, my… um… s-sweetums?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lunisia did not break character, but it was a close thing. She gasped. “Yes, Rodrigo! It is thee at long last.” When he didn’t say anything, her voice hardened. “Perhaps you’ve been across the sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, across the seas.” Rodrigo winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And upon the new lands,” she prompted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drow are above such boorish theatrics,” said Viconia with distaste. “Seems much like the sort your stuttering companion might’ve appreciated. Have you finally misplaced him, half-breed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know full well what happened to Khalid, drow,” said Jaheira, her voice quivering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s eyes widened briefly. Thalia wasn’t so certain she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> known.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, his loyalty and submissive ways made him average as a male, though the rest of his manner was repulsively weak,” continued Viconia, heedless. “A strong female like yourself could do far better. You know this. Why dwell on the loss of such a fool, waela?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cease this at once!” she hissed in a low voice. “I will not have his memory defiled by the likes of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” said Viconia venomously. “Revel in your misery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On stage, Rodrigo stammered over another line and groaned. “This is hopeless. I’m just the understudy, I’ll never learn this rubble by tonight. And, who’ll believe me, anyway? The only human, vying for a tiefling’s love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll… try to not be offended,” said Lunisia. She stalked backstage, long rose gold hair swishing behind her. And a tail. Kirinaldo and Rodrigo followed her, as did the spectating tieflings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Problems? Among actors?” said Yoshimo with a smile. “Who would have even dreamt of such a thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A red-skinned tiefling woman returned to collect a prop. Her eyes landed on them. “I’m gravely sorry if you witnessed the rehearsal,” she said, “but I can only recommend you visit us another night. We… are rather in disarray. Though, would those blades be for hire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” said Jaheira at once. “Tell us what has gone wrong. We might have a problem of our own you may be able to help with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman burst into a smile of sharp teeth. “Oh, wonderful. Come, come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raelis Shai ushered them backstage, where Rodrigo’s actor stammered over his lines. Though clearly a storeroom, the tieflings had made it a home. Sulfur and perfume scented the air. Corners filled with lush blankets of watery material, and trunks belching scarves and costume passed for furniture. Thalia sat on one. One of their finest actors, Haer’Dalis, had been kidnapped by a wizard — the wizard’s silence only worried Raelis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No ransom?” asked Anomen. “Nothing at all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raelis considered her nails. “Nothing,” she said mournfully. “The wizard’s greed called out to Haer’Dalis’s beloved gem, a token our sparrow would never part with. The wizard stole both. A terrible performance is the least of our fears. Haer’Dalis, though a free-spirited nuisance, is our brother and we are rather far from home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate to be crass,” said Jaheira, laying a hand on Raelis’s arm, “but we are gathering a fund to rescue a dear friend and Thalia’s sister. Coin is of a personal interest, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sorry, truly, I am, but we are a destitute troupe of players.” Her face twisted in desperation. “The wizard, Mekrath, may have treasure — but I can offer only three hundred. An… an additional sum, if I must, for the sparrow’s gem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought the wizard hadn’t communicated with you,” said Thalia. She crossed her arms. “You know his name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raelis’ wide eyes turned to her. “Oh, he hasn’t, but the scoundrel is known to these parts. He has a lair in the tunnels beneath our feet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sewers,” said Viconia flatly, wrinkling her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the authorities haven’t done a thing?” demanded Anomen. “Kidnapping? Theft? A known rogue wizard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raelis laughed. “It has never been a child of Sigil’s fortune to be treated with dignity by local authorities, most especially by those human.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen shut his eyes and braced against her words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raelis raised a lithe hand to Viconia. “I trust, my sister, you understand my sentiment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia, whom Thalia had once saved from a militiaman about to execute her for a crime Thalia had committed, stiffened. “Do not presume to understand your betters, half-breed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raelis’ smile didn’t falter. “If you return our sparrow, you may curse me any name you wish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will find him,” promised Jaheira, standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our prayers go with you, my good woman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After much thanking and hand-wringing, they were allowed to escape back into the sunlight. Jaheira thought she remembered a sewer entrance and led them. Anomen, still, seemed most troubled. Thalia thought she shared his concerns. By her reckoning, it was still too early to venture into the sewers to be saving lost actors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These… authorities,” said Anomen with disgust as they passed a guard, “they are naught but mercenaries, loyalty and blade bought with coin. They’ve no loyalty to the innocent or those they protect. Meanwhile, the Order stands with an army of righteous knights and paladins. Conscience and Helm are our commands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps we should leave this sparrow to them, then,” said Thalia, as she weighed the sewers against three hundred gold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen inclined his head. “I would, if fair Imoen’s safety was not so dire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, in time, the Order could turn this into a more equitable land. Think on, of all the suffering commoners must endure — hunger, poverty, southron rebellions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Order has swords that may slay poverty?” she asked, amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but these things would not occur with the Order placed in command, a force of true righteousness and brotherhood.” He shook his head. “It baffles me why more cannot see it. And, so, commons continue to suffer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Somehow, I doubt the Order being in charge would change a thing.” She shrugged. “Dukes changed in Baldur’s Gate countless times, both good and bad, and my life altered little. Commons require more than a righteous leader.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen chuckled. “You merely do not know the Order, my lady. I wish to introduce you to it, in due time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia couldn’t keep the distaste from her face, but he didn’t notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin prised himself from the back of the group. “Anomen,” he began in innocent tones, “I have been meaning to ask about this. This… This Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart of which you speak, why is it that you lead the converted like lambs to slaughter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s face whitened with shock and he stammered, lost for words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On ramparts across Faerun,” continued the wizard with nary a thought, “are Radiant heads on pikes. Such heads have been most eulogized to the allure of your vaunted brotherhood, yet are cursed viciously by most for their atrocities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is unwise to meddle with civilized life in Faerun,” said Anomen dangerously. “The brotherhood has brought peace to turmult, so good may prevail over darkness, and the martyrs—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell it to pilgrims at temple, it might inspire the common idiot. The Heart has been responsible for some of the most heinous crimes against decency and dignity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s hand jerked towards his sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s enough, Edwin,” she said sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her support stayed Anomen’s blade. “You’d best watch that tongue, spellfiddler,” he growled, “before your lies earn you deliverance from this squalid plane at the point of a sword.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen strode forward to catch up with Jaheira, his cloak swishing behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am correct,” said Edwin smugly. “It is a weak mind that cannot handle the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” said Thalia. “Keep your opinions to yourself, they’re just as bad as your insults. And just as likely to get you killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your concern is touching,” he said in a low voice, “but I am sure you might remember the last wretched warrior who took issue with me and pointed a blade in my direction.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bitter reference to Minsc brought bile to her throat. “I do remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira came across a large round grate. With Yoshimo’s help, she hefted it aside and exposed the stench and darkness of the sewers. They argued silently, furiously, until Thalia threw up her hands and stepped down first. The rails were slimy under her hands, the stones slippery. The canal continued, though the smell rebounded off the walls, magnified. Sickly and rotting. As the others descended, Anomen and Viconia cried out, cursing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so bad, once you get used to it, I’m sure,” said Jaheira, furrowing her brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We best not be here long enough to get used to it,” said Thalia dryly. “Wizard. Actor. Gem. Coin. Imoen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira lit a ball of radiant sunlight and the darkness retreated. Under the natural light, it looked even worse. The canal’s brown waters flowed leisurely, but the moist cavern diverted in a dozen directions. Thankfully, it seemed abandoned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imoen is lucky to have inspired such loyalty,” said Yoshimo, inspecting his boot as they trodded onwards. “Sisters always do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky she is.” Thalia tossed her words behind her. “Back in Candlekeep, she was always playing tricks on people. Earned her plenty of scolding and trouble — and few kind words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like quite the young lady to know,” he said lightly. “I would be honoured to exchange notes with the Bane of Candlekeep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia paused and managed a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They drew their weapons and proceeded deeper. The ways sprawled for miles, much like the city above. Determined minutes turned to tiresome hours. Thalia doubted they would ever find the wizard. The smell did manage to abate, though patches of particularly foul refuse refreshed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rivvil,” hissed Viconia suddenly. She tapped her shortsword against the stones. The tip disappeared into the hollow illusion. She reached a hand through and the piece of wall vanished like a door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A spiral staircase dug deeper down. Tiny magelights glowed in the stones, like sconces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira extinguished her own light and started a familiar elven prayer. Thalia didn’t know a word of it, but she recognized the feeling. Calm and cool, magic but softer. Watchful, even. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen rose his eyebrow to Jaheira. “Why, thank you, my lady. It seems your elven tree god discriminates not. If I may return the favour?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just hurry up,” she said, shifting her quarterstaff to her other hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s own prayer involved a lot of fast finger gestures. The spells wove together. The sudden rush of strength met something in Thalia. She jolted at the feeling. This wizard, she would kill him soon. Another corpse to the pile, fallen at her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced and followed Jaheira down the stairs. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>lair</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as Raelis had called it, seemed rather cozy. Bookshelves displayed leatherbound tomes, not a one in Common. Edwin lingered, taking more than one book out with interest. They soon left him behind and a stream of low Thayvian curses followed them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A kitchen for one — with quite too many herbs hanging from the ceiling — was empty. As was a private temple to Cyric. Skulls, and vials of poison and blood. Nothing at all like a gemstone. Jaheira had a few choice words about Cyricism. Anomen knocked the table aside and the holy symbol shattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia opened the storeroom. Wide silvery eyes stared at her from the blackness. She raised her sword, but the eyes barely blinked. They mirrored the dim light, reflected like a cat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I serve only Master Mekrath,” said the eyes dimly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin twisted his hand through a magelight and it brightened. The light threw the barrels and sacks into sharp relief. And the tiefling. He sat on the ground, legs spread out like a doll left behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin clicked his fingers and waved his hand in front of Haer’Dalis’ face. “Hmm. I’d say this man has been rendered magically mindless. How useful.” He turned to Thalia with a small smile, then spoke over her. “I can think of others who could use similar treatment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sighed and left the tiefling in his closet. “Jaheira, you take the others. Kill the wizard and find the gem. I’ll watch over our little friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira nodded. “Restrain him, if the wizard calls for his slave. Who knows what powers the tieflings have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shut the door and sat on a barrel. The magelight dimmed, but she mimicked Edwin’s motion. Even then, it didn’t respond. She scowled and pictured a light — but cold, not a fire. She was sad how unsurprised she was when the light summoned. Artificial, lifeless. It summoned with the smallest twinge of pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia did not know if she trusted herself to fight. The taint was becoming easier to control, but she felt it might go both ways. She couldn’t shake how she had killed Mae’Var. Rather than waiting and attempting to assassinate him, she had gotten as close as she could, relished in the… the murder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Among the crates, a leather harness lay discarded. A pair of shortswords gleamed like mirrors. One, the steel was fire red, jagged at the base of the blade. The other was warbled stormy metal, folded a thousand times. Thalia didn’t dare touch them, for the magic they radiated, but her heart longed for the weapons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The white light shone over Haer’Dalis at her feet. His tanned skin was flawless, save for a series of delicate scars along the edge of his jaw. He was a lithe thing, nimble and almost boyish, but muscle carved his build. Unlike the others, no horns poked through his long dark hair — black, blue, silvery graphite. The light played its shine. His eyes blinked, chest rose, but there was no life. Was that how Bhaal saw her? An empty mindless vessel, powerless to resist the abilities he could bring? Only for the small cost of herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis pitched forward suddenly. Thalia leapt to her feet, sword raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groaned and drew himself back into a seated position. “My… captor. He lies dead,” he whispered in a grave melodious voice. “I can feel it! Poetry overwhelms this sparrow’s heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis stood, liquid grace and extended a hand. “In a blaze of trumpets, with wicked blades held high, thus came ye fates of chaos to see this sparrow fly!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stared. “Alright, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, she slid her sword back into her belt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, now,” said Haer’Dalis. “Wait, a moment, if you would. I cannot leave without the gemstone, it—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Raelis told me of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile lit his voice, though not his face. “Raelis? Well, well, well, she will never let me forget her saving my hide — again.” He sighed deeply. “Then, let us find the stone and be rid of the foul humours of this place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The rest of my party might have found it,” she said. “Be careful. This place is probably still dangerous. I don’t want to be responsible for an actor’s death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words proved useless, however. Haer’Dalis took the shortswords she had been admiring. They flitted eagerly into his hands before his belted the harness on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All things rot and all things die, my dark bird,” he said softly. “Entropy, chaos, decay — these are the gifts we are left with when we finally slip between the fingers of this world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every word was carefully closen, deliberately delivered. He couldn’t have known what she was. He couldn’t have known she would’ve come. It was impossible. Yet, she feared it anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis met her eyes, grim as the grave. “When Death comes for this poet, rest easy. Shed no tears. Perhaps, he has already come for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia kept her hand on the hilt of her sword, but he had nothing more to say. He inspected the mess Anomen had made of the temple. With a delicate touch, he prised a fire opal from the altar cloth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The wizard managed to sew your gem onto his altar?” she asked suspiciously. “How long were you down here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis sunk into a humble bow. “We’ve need of the stone, he did not — it is ours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He never kidnapped you,” said Thalia, feeling her stomach sink. “He had apprehended a thief.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Growing up with Imoen, Thalia didn’t mind thieves, but the lies grated her. She would’ve rescued the damned tiefling anyhow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned, crestfallen. “Yes, and treated this sparrow most unkind. Many thanks for your timely arrival.” He displayed the gem in his palm. Large as a river rock, a small fortune. While it glowed like a fire opal, the depths swirled gold. He turned his hand and it vanished, appearing in his other. “Raelis and I are of Sigil, a city deep in the Astral Plane, and this is but one key to its many doors. Our own was stolen — by whom, we know not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armor jangled with footsteps down the hall. Haer’Dalis smiled beatifically and slipped the opal into his pocket with a wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, the actor has risen,” said Jaheira, relieved. “Let us get out of this dank prison and seek the sunlight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Introductions could wait until they reached the surface. Though he gave nothing more than his name and moniker, Haer’Dalis was only too full of questions. About the romantics of druid devotion, or local knighthood, or the wilds of the Underdark. He didn’t receive many answers, but nothing dampened his spirits. Thalia couldn’t trust it. The fire opal hung heavy in his pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis greeted Raelis and the other tieflings with a delighted hug. She handed over a bag to Jaheira — rather lightweight, Thalia thought. Three hundred, for one life. Then again, it hadn’t been much of a task.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Raelis, if I may,” said Haer’Dalis, “I do believe mine courageous saviours might also find noble purpose in defending the downtrodden spirits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raelis’ uncanny eyes roamed them. “Very well, Haer’Dalis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised a hand hand to Jaheira. “Sweet hawk, my family and I must return home. The City of Doors. She is a great hub of the multiverse and now, with my planar jewel, we may open one of her doors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you ever leave Sigil?” asked Thalia sharply. “They suspect thieves?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo scoffed at the tone of her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We rather unwisely performed an anonymous play, satirizing a factol of the Fated,” said Haer’Dalis, unperturbed. “His wretched cambion sought our deaths, but we daresay he might’ve abandoned the bounty. Sigil’s mistress herself showed favour upon sending us to this… </span>
  <em>
    <span>lovely</span>
  </em>
  <span> prime.” His smile hummed with the right touch of insulting pleasantness, the right dangerous charm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis handed Raelis the gem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia knew it at once. Imoen would adore him. A thief, a charmer, an actor and teller of tales. Mysterious tiefling from a far-off city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A door, once opened, may be stepped through in either direction,” he said. “Many beings may sense the portal and prove most rude. A hand would be appreciated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis beamed and spoke to another actor in a strange rough language. They quickly ran off. Moments later, they returned with the rest of the troupe. Over a dozen in all, each with a different strange hue to their skin and hair. And more horns and claws — and tails, poking out of patches in trousers and skirts. Thalia checked Haer’Dalis. No tail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raelis readied the ritual. Thalia’s eyes flickered to Edwin and, though he observed it at a safe distance, didn’t seem suspicious. Haer’Dalis took his swords in hand. The other tieflings huddled to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raelis threw the gem and it hung, suspended in the air. With a scream of metal on metal, the ragged portal tore open. A chaos of senses left it — smells, flashes of heat and ice, and visions of jungles and gaseous clouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia was unprepared for the cackling imp that flew out. A crossbow bolt caught it in the neck and it fell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine work,” said Yoshimo with a rich laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia seemed pleased, for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fire elemental stepped through, sparks leaping from its skin. The wooden floorboards caught. Screams and an incantation pierced the air. Thalia backed further and a ray of icy air blew past her, meeting the fire elemental. Jaheira added her own power to the spell and the creature crumbled to ashes. A braver actor rushed forward with blankets to stifle and stamp out the flames.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only a flurry of movement. Thalia managed to bring up her sword at the last moment. Sparks shed from her sword as it bit the creature. Without any noticing, shadowmen had left the portal. Invisible, they cast only blackness across the floor. Anomen cursed as he and Jaheira found their own. The outline shimmered as Haer’Dalis stabbed it. Darts of </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic missile</span>
  </em>
  <span> narrowly missed her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve found it!” cried Raelis. She staggered forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flashing portal seemed to steady to a silver grey. At once, an elf appeared and grabbed Raelis by the throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One more step and we see what colour her blood is,” called the elf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis gritted his teeth but his weapons lowered. “There was no offence meant by that play, bounty hunter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, yet, offence given,” he said. Raelis jerked in his grip and he tightened. “Did you not think we watched all the doors, probed each opening? Scum always finds its way back through the drains. Hurry up, horns! All of you.” His eyes narrowed as they found Thalia and the others. “What’s this? Mercenaries hired against the factrol?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Haer’Dalis swiftly. “Only patrons of the playhouse — well-armored against the sharpness of our wit. No need to harm Miss Raelis, we shall come peacefully.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bounty hunter berated the other tieflings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It appears Death has come for me this day anyway,” said Haer’Dalis without a hint of sorrow. “I bid you farewell, my raven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stared. “You’re just… letting him take you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would walk into the foulest prison of all the planes to keep Miss Raelis’ neck intact,” he said mildly. “Today, it appears, I am called to do so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tieflings vanished into the portal, Haer’Dalis last of all. Some cried. Others whimpered or turned to each other for comfort. The bounty hunter backed into it, dragging Raelis by her horn and his knife. The portal whirled, faster and faster. And, then, suddenly, it closed. The winds calmed. The gem fell with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia knelt to the gem. It steamed and bore a hairline crack through it. It scalded her fingers as she grabbed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that was some fine excitement for the day,” said Yoshimo brightly. His sword sung as it slid into its sheath. “Most certainly better than that play, going by the rehearsal we stumbled in on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed,” said Anomen. “Unfortunate they were not able to aid us more, though they did pay first—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would leave them to their fate, Anomen?” asked Jaheira, shocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would quite like to wash this stench off and leave these actors to pay for the crimes of actors—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cambion</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she finished, disbelieving. “A half-devil of the Nine Hells.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And no way to follow!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stood and pressed the gem into Edwin’s hands. He hissed and dropped it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open the portal, conjurer,” she said. “Or, do you dare tell me a tiefling actress has more arcane mastery over the planes than you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard scowled but set about the ritual. It sounded similar enough to what Raelis had done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen, if you must return to the inn, I won’t think poorly of it,” said Thalia. “We’re following.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen grimaced. “Nay, my lady. I shall fight on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s foul expression belied her calculating eyes. She didn’t understand, not quite. She didn’t understand how Thalia and Jaheira could insist upon following a ragged troupe of actors into the planes. Thalia was certain Jaheira did it for the adventure, the honour. They had been hired to rescue Haer’Dalis and, planar prison or not, they would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia rather thought of Haer’Dalis’ answer, to the bounty hunter. A quick thought had saved their lives — whilst dooming his own family. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was something Thalia didn’t understand. But it was something she had to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The portal screamed open again and Edwin staggered. “That was it,” he said, breathless. “Go! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Go</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you cursed idiots. Get!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stepped through first, sword raised. The portal wrenched the breath from her lungs and she struggled to get her bearings. The blue-black night sky studded with white stars but… everywhere. Not only above, but below. Glassless windows overlooked a yawning abyss. What did this prison rest on? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others tumbled across the threshold behind her. A shrill scream sealed the portal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia took a tentative step forward. No torches hung on walls, but light seemed to bleed from the opal crystal floors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” burst Viconia. Her hand latched onto Thalia’s arm and pulled her back. “A moment, I—” She grimaced, lost for words. Her eyes searched Thalia’s face and must’ve found whatever they looked for. Moments later, she began a clipped prayer in drow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia repeated the maxim back to her in drow. “My weapon is ever-sharp, my poison is strong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prayer ended and the spell fell, cold and unfamiliar as far as magic went, but calm. Almost melancholy. A blessing of Shar. It was a dark invisibility, blending each of them into the white crystal structure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen gasped. “What manner of god has given you such powers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We may speak later, male, if you must know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A smart one,” added Yoshimo, “to give such power to one of such beauty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia rather didn’t think Anomen needed to know. Shar wouldn’t grant Viconia any favours in his eyes and she was quite determined to keep him. Him and his two thousand gold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They crept along the passage. Thalia tried to keep her footfalls gentle, but Anomen’s own steel boots rebounded off the stone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You witless, blundering—” Edwin lapsed into Thayvian, though finished with what must’ve been a spell. Thalia recognised the crushing </span>
  <em>
    <span>silence</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, quite suddenly, they were undetectable. Even to each other. Thalia grasped for Viconia’s hand and, though stiff, she let her hold it. The chain must’ve continued and, while she couldn’t see them, she felt as Anomen and Jaheira fell in line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wild freedom came over Thalia. She could go anywhere, do anything, strike down any foe. They would never even see her coming. Perhaps, not even the cambion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The passageway continued and, with it, came voices. Viconia kept them along the edge of the wall as the passage ended into an atrium. The ceiling had been left open to the sea of stars above, though Thalia could only stare at the jailors. Snakes. Tall snakes. Snake-men. The serpents balanced on powerful tails, though their arms clutched spears. Gold-green scales shimmered over their bodies alongside gilded armor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ever dream of that collar off again and you will find there are far worse lives than being a slave,” one hissed at a cowering man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man did wear a collar. The chain glowed vibrant pink and it twisted against his flesh until he screamed, then the scream choked. It twisted further, before releasing. He fell prone, gasping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia led them along the outskirts of the atrium. None noticed them. More prisoners mingled, awaiting the judgement of the serpents, but no tieflings. Elves, dwarves, a halfling, and stranger beasts by far. But no jewel-toned, horned men or women. No Raelis. No Haer’Dalis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bounty hunter stepped forward. “What about my payment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll get it once they’ve been processed,” said a serpent, bored. “Upon their sale — or our lord’s approval — you will receive our bonus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bonus—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t pretend your client hasn’t already paid you. And do not presume to know where you are, prime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bounty hunter shirked under the gaze. “Give me your damned paperwork, then, I’ll process the horned rats myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The serpents hissed to each other softly, before handing over a scroll and stylus. Grumbling, the bounty hunter retreated down a corridor. Unbeknownst to him, Thalia and the others followed closely. The corridor split into other rooms and halls — but no more serpents. They were alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bounty hunter clicked a button and a door appeared out of solid wall. Thalia caught a flash of luminescent colours against the quartz walls — deep red, silvery-blue, and jade green. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bounty hunter stepped in with a groan. “Form a line—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia lurched and wrapped her hands around his neck. The comforting magic vanished as soon as she touched him. He slipped on the smooth rock and they tumbled to the ground. With less than a thought, flames burst around her hands. Hungry. Hot. At her sudden fright, they vanished. All that remained was charred neckbones connecting a chin and chest peeling with dire burns. The neckbones gave way and the head separated from body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tieflings stared at her, tear-stricken. Each wore a heavy iron chain collar, its links glowing a faint pink. Haer’Dalis set aside a jade tiefling who clung to him. His eyes were the most surprised of all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Edwin,” she called quietly. “See about these collars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard manifested and grasped the one nearest, muttering to himself. She hoped he was muttering about magic and not cursing the orders. Time was running out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve… You barely know us,” said Raelis, astonished, “and, yet, you’ve bought our freedom with blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s not count chickens yet. Collars,” she said sharply. “What do they do? How can we take them off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The enchantment is locked to a key,” said Edwin, too loudly. “Without it, they shall remain imprisoned on this plane — for eternity! Now, stop your yammering—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A common gutter thief can pick a lock and yet a powerful wizard in my service looks once at a manacle and decides it’s above him?” asked Thalia with a raised eyebrow. “Pick the damned lock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned as red as his robes and returned to the collars. A few of the tieflings began to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo stepped from his shadow of invisibility. “I have no small skill with mundane locks. I might be able—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin slapped his hands away and Yoshimo withdrew, shaking his smarting fingers with a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand, Edwin, no wizard becomes as powerful as you by relying on others, but this be not your expertise—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silence,” he snapped as a curse. His fingers tightened on the chain and the tiefling in his grasp cried out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis picked over the ruins of the bounty hunter, retrieving his blades. “More blood, it seems, must be spilt before an escape is made. And, so it goes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This cambion,” she asked in a low voice. “Can we kill it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unlikely,” he said casually. “We are all doomed. I thank you, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He belted his swords on. “For giving this sparrow one last taste of hope. And giving him the chance to choose the manner in which he meets death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The key is required,” said Edwin stonily. “Find it or abandon this fool’s errand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shall fetch it,” said Yoshimo with a bright grin. “These sticky fingers have stolen the pearls from the ears of Dame Fatila the Pure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin quirked an eyebrow to Thalia and felt a tickle of uncertainty. Yoshimo’s bright smile and cheerful demeanor were easy to enjoy, so much like Imoen’s. He was helpful and inquisitive and boisterous. That didn’t make him untrustworthy, did it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These are my people,” said Haer’Dalis calmly. “The task is mine. Wizard, pray tell what you know of the key.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard glared. “These are the planes, actor. The key might be anything, yet it is small. Perhaps a marble, or a glass eye in one of those nagi, or a grain of rice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, I will venture forth to meet death as a savior of my brothers and sisters,” he said. “What a gift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Thalia could say a word, he hummed a haunting tune and vanished. Invisible. She had the barest sense of him passing her. And they were alone with the tieflings — no safer, and possibly in far greater danger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin turned to her. “What now? We were unprepared for such a mission into the deep planes. How do you even expect to return to the prime?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut up. One problem at a time.” Thalia sat on the floor next to the hunter’s body, thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments later, as though to create another problem, the invisibility fell. Viconia, Anomen, and Jaheira entered reluctantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I don’t have another spell,” said Viconia. “I may cast it on one other, but that is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> might be able to,” said Edwin pointedly to Thalia. He leaned to the wall beside her, looking down at her. “This deep into the planes, who knows what might happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had once managed an invisibility spell over mere seconds, elicited by fear. But for that many people? For so long? That said, she had never managed to char bone or melt flesh. The smell haunted her. Anomen frowned at the bounty hunter. For now, perhaps, he would justify whatever he had seen of her back as she tackled the hunter. She would need to answer questions, though. And soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are not relying on </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, wizard,” cursed Jaheira. “We will take the fight to this cambion if we must.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We still have the advantage of surprise,” added Anomen. “A quick battle to deal with those snake-men, and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the resulting bloodbath against a greater fiend will wash your conscience clear, I am sure,” said Edwin scathingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to be so pessimistic,” said Yoshimo. “You think too much! Every battle, it is blade on blade — nothing more. And I saw plenty of blades out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We fight,” said Thalia shortly. She clamboured to her feet, though couldn’t tear her eyes off the still-smoldering neckbones of the hunter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raelis cried out, scratching at the collar. Remembering the other slave in the atrium, Thalia bent down, fearful.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clink. Clink. Clink.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>One by one, then all at once, the collars fell apart. The sound echoed across the hall, a sudden reckoning thunder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis had destroyed the key.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chaos broke out in the distant atrium. A clatter of spears and hissing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We fight,” agreed Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some more reluctant than others, they tore off down the corridor. The atrium had turned into a battle beneath the starry sky. More serpents came to support the other jailors, but the freed slaves supported Haer’Dalis. Already, magical poison and smoke clouded the air. As Thalia stuck in against the nearest serpent, portals screamed open and new conjured creatures joined the frey. The battlefield became a tangled mess of spells, hisses, and battlecries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For each serpent that fell, another took his place. Thalia felt herself ache for a dueling dagger. Something to stab, to parry those near-misses. Even with but a longsword, the cool bodies piled up. A mechanical action, reaction. The serpents weren’t all that different. Their body language was harder to read, but they struck and blocked and dodged much the same as any spearman. They bled the same. They died the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia felt the power swell within her. Like a fire’s smoke, desperate to escape its confines. She had never felt the taint so vibrant, so eager. What form would it take? What might it do? The power wept from her like sweat. Frightened, she grasped it and let it condense into her off-hand. The power dripped from her clawed fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t dare look at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She only threw, desperate to rid herself of the feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ball, she glimpsed, was ichor black and smoking, a whirl of ice cold sickly green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It scoured the battle before connecting with a serpent’s back. It screamed, hissing. And it fell. Thalia did not need to look to smell the stench of a rotten corpse. Of Gethras. Necrosis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The power built again, a rhythm of her very breathing. Her breathing matched her strikes, her parry, the rhythm of the fight. A perfect tandem. She relaxed into it, and the power bloomed. It had been waiting all along for her. Sweet and loyal, a hound of death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of letting the serpent pull back his spear, she grabbed the steel and the metal rusted straight through. Rust crept up from her touch with a crackle like ice. The serpent stared at the broken pieces. Dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Momentarily distracted by a puff of emerald gas, another parried too late. Dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tendrils lashed out from her palm, stripping scale and flesh from bone like a whip. The serpent favoured that shoulder, made mistakes. Dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sliced a thrown ball with her sword, directing and splitting it. A spray of black-green pellets struck two opponents. Blinded. Dead. Dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The form of the power mattered little. Each came as natural as the one before. Water, poured into new containers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Thalia did not miss her dagger any longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not a spell. There was no incantation, no finger-wiggling, no burned components. It was an essence. The long-slumbering spark of Murder finally given voice. The beauty and silence and chaos of death. Corpses piled around her, thigh-deep and warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell of sulfur behind barely warned her. Thalia turned and stepped sideways to avoid the cambion’s strike. Brick red skin, handsome features, and black-tipped wings bursting out of infernal armor. A sphere of blue protective magic surrounded him. Thalia dodged the strike of his two-handed sword. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The power within stuttered before it began to build again, more carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The battle thinned, as fewer serpents came to replace those fallen. A menagerie of conjured fiendish creatures and elementals dominated the atrium. Even alongside them, Thalia retreated behind the wall of summons. They battered against the cambion’s shield uselessly. They would need another ploy to defeat him — how did anyone kill a cambion?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Battle exhaustion threatened her, warring with adrenaline. A quick survey told her it had already been won. Anomen still battled serpents, along with Jaheira. Yoshimo slid, slick as a duelist. Viconia cast another spell alongside them. Haer’Dalis held his own, a whirlwind of steel, as insubstantial as mist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing!” shouted Edwin. “Thalia, the cambion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced, stunned at the use of her name. Edwin must’ve exerted most every spell of his but managed to whip yet another from his depths. She grit her teeth and rejoined. The summons parted at her approach. She made it just in time, as the blue sphere ripped away like fabric yanked from a table setting. The cambion screamed, outraged, and spread his wings. A fiendish wolf latched on, dangling, as he began to rose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia dropped her sword and stretched out both hands. The ball erupted with a terrible echo,  entering the cambion as slickly as an arrow. The force flung him backwards through the air before slamming into the quartz wall and slinking downward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The summons continued on in the fight, assisting with the scraps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stared, awestruck at the cambion. The meeting of a mortal and a devil. A ruler of a far-off plane. And he had fallen in one shot. The thought made her weak in the knees. Not with fear, but anticipation. A thrill. Surely, He might summon cambions and other fiends from the planes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was getting close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aside from being rattled, the tieflings seemed unharmed. Some found the courage to pick over the serpent corpses or rummage around the prison. Haer’Dalis, it seemed, was not their only thief. The other slaves and prisoners joined them uncertainly. They took in the bloodshed, the bodies, and the weapons. Several fell to their knees with gratitude, stammering in distant languages. Edwin threw off the praise roughly and disappeared down a room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raelis spoke with them and returned to Thalia and Jaheira. “I’m afraid we can never thank you properly,” she said deeply. “We must leave this place before the factrol marshals his forces. Transport between planes is far simpler outside the prime — though I’m sure the cambion had a planar jewel to open one back to your home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was our privilege,” said Jaheira, taking Raelis in hand. “Please, take your people and go, before something worse arrives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suspect our wizard is already searching for another gem,” said Thalia. “We’ll leave shortly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raelis clasped Jaheira’s hands in an odd stance, before pulling away. “Haer’Dalis!” she called. “Are you ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes bright, stained with blood, Haer’Dalis bowed low. “Miss Raelis, I’m afraid… I won’t accompany you this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she whispered, horrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The greatest of all the curses of mortals is when we are right,” he said. “I love your flame dear, drawn by its radiance only to smell the smoke of my flesh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She groaned. “Don’t be a fool! </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrote that damned play. This is all my fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, my magpie, but the time has passed. The prime calls to your moth. And I shall remember you often and fondly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dipped low, kissing her hand, but Raelis sighed at the theatrics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin returned with a new planar gem and, this time, the portal opened without any unexpected arrivals. Raelis opened a new door. Thalia could not help but feel that, even if she had never managed to ask the tieflings about the Bhaalspawn, she had received answers of a sort. A glimmer of possibility, no matter how grim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dirty streets of Athkatla’s canal district returned to them. Night had fallen and left the streets abandoned. Not a soul remained to witness the portal as it sealed. Haer’Dalis stepped forward, hand on the hilt of a sword and breathed deep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you going to do?” asked Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m not sure,” he said pleasantly. “What of you? Are you doing anything interesting?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Walls of de’Arnise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Big yikes. Very long chapter, but I couldn't find a good place to cut it. There's a lot of inter-party banter and some Bhaal stuff chopped in between.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thalia opened her eyes to Candlekeep, but it was not one she knew. Blackened vines grew across the white library, oozing and sickly. The fountains’ pools opened into starry voids, but the sky was black and featureless. She lay a hand against the stones; the stones were ice to her touch. Climbing mint grew around her fingers with a cold clean scent. This was a place of her own mind, meaningful to none but her. She ripped off a few leaves and chewed them. The flavour burst on her tongue and turned her stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a while,” she said coolly to the open air. “Never thanked you for the help in the planar prison.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Bhaal did not answer. It was his dream. She was only a spectator in it. He would make his point, terrify her, douse her with blood or blessings — and she would awake. Restless. It was a dance she knew well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream,” whispered a distant voice. “Dreams of friends and family. They always mean something, don’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia whirled around. It wasn’t Bhaal who had spoken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imoen,” she breathed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not the Imoen of her memories, but the one she had last seen arrested by the Cowled Wizards. Hollow-cheeked and dull-eyed, less than a shadow. Thalia pulled her into a tight embrace, digging her fingers through the ragged orange hair. The girl slipped through her grasp like mist. Like a ghost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course. Imoen here wasn’t real. Only a figment of Bhaal, dragged from her own fears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen walked in a daze up the library’s steps. The doors had been ripped off their hinges, as if by a great beast. “Do you remember these doors or… I don’t… I remember… Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grit her teeth. Engaging with the dreams never went well. She spat out the mint, but the taste didn’t leave her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Home?” asked Imoen hollowly. “That sounds right, but it wasn’t. They wouldn’t have you, Lia. Wouldn’t have me. They had no use — but He does. He wants something and I… I don’t know why.” She spoke blandly, without fear or emotion. “Those in the cowls don’t even know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Im,” whispered Thalia. “Please, stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Imoen looked straight through her, walked straight through her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The great iron gates had been torn aside. In the gloom, three figures froze like statues. Gorion, smiling at a desk, black still darting his grey hair and short beard. Elminster, sat on a log, wise and wizened and mysterious. And Khalid, strong-shouldered and sunburned, bastard swords crossed at his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen reached for Gorion but hesitated. “Do you… remember them? They were guidance — and there was so much to learn. And now… They are all so far away. I don’t remember any of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three men exploded in a shower of red. Thalia shielded herself from the hot spray of blood. Their spirits howled into vapour, but Imoen was already turning again. Flat and empty. Washed in their blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tossed her arms back and shouted to the sky, “This is cruel — even for you. Leave me be!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Statues, people wrought in perfect ivory, cruel and cold and proud, pushed their way from the barren earth. Thalia recognised them with a jolt. The Bhaalspawn. A hallway in Bhaal’s own castle displayed each child in rows upon rows. The markers spanned like a graveyard in the dusk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen lingered in front of one. A powerfully built man, handsome and dark-haired. Even if Thalia had never dreamt of him, she would’ve known him. She had killed him. Months after he had murdered Gorion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you… Do I remember Sarevok?” asked Imoen in a hushed whisper. “The others? He sought our death. It seemed so important at the time. Something…” She seemed to see her for the first time. “Something is coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed. She took Imoen in her arms and, rather than drifting away, she clung back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember… me?” asked Imoen, in that dreamy empty voice. “I can almost see, but… It’s gone. You will come too late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming, Im,” she promised. “I swear, I’m coming. And I’m bringing Jaheira and Viconia. The Red Wizard, too, and a knight, and a real thief — and a bard. You’ll love him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” she shouted. She pulled her closer, but Imoen faded again to smoke, filtering through her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia spun but Imoen appeared in the entrance to the library, frozen and mute, eyes unseeing. Bands of gold light twisted around her like ropes. A robed figure stepped from the darkness. A face wormed with pulsing veins. Dead eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She resists,” said Irenicus. “She clings to her old life as if it actually matters. She will learn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing? Keep your hands off her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia managed a few steps before He stopped her with a look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a portrait of what has and what may happen,” said Irenicus. “Like reaches to like, it seems.” He glanced about. “Candlekeep, isn’t it, your childhood home? Were you in the planes of late? These stars and the night seas are quite stark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart skipped a beat. The figures in these dreams were so often like Imoen: sightless, vacant, actors reading scripts. They never addressed her. They never realised the horror of the dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stammered as Irenicus stepped down from the library.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve felt the potential, haven’t you?” He asked. He raised a lithe hand. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> know what you want. You no longer cringe from it, to live a life at odds with your soul. After all, it is you, which has brought us to this dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This… This is real, isn’t it?” she asked, backing away. At an instinctive pull, she felt for the taint and it was close — closer than it should be, though not nearly as close as in the planes. “This isn’t Bhaal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing is real. Yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia awoke with a start, her throat parched. Breath wheezed and choked as she struggled to find herself again. The Copper Coronet. The dead of night. Wings flapped and a bird squawked with indignity. She glanced to see Jaheira wrestling with the raven. Grinding the dream from her eyes, she sat up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not pretending anymore that you’re not lurking outside my door at night, waiting for me to sleep-kill?” asked Thalia wearily. “Or, am I not supposed to see you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a terrible sinking feeling, she tried to reach for the raven. Silky feathers glossed under her fingers and it stopped its attack. With a graceful flutter, it sat on her bedpost. Eyes flickered with fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira grimaced, scratched to the hells. “I trust you, Thalia, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, we ought to have talked and you gotten my permission.” Thalia offered the bird her finger and it nipped. Her hand trembled. “I… need the wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does he—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At her curt word, Jaheira reluctantly left and returned with an Edwin whose scowl had settled even deeper. It lightened upon spotting the bird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another dream,” he said. “And a familiar, I see. Why, aren’t you busy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to,” she said quietly, “but this dream was different. I reacted in defence, I suppose, hoping for an ally. Would rather something bigger than a bird. Ow!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She drew her hand back sharpish and glared. Blood welled from the cut. She sucked at it. The raven vanished in a puff of brimstone-scented black smoke, ruffling his feathers. He appeared at the top of the dresser.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia relayed the dream as best she could and filled in Jaheira as to the others. There were rather a few. For once, Jaheira had nothing to say. She undid the latches at her armor and swallowed, sitting back like a puppet with her strings cut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must have acorns for eyes if you missed the necrotic display in the planar prison,” said Edwin enviously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had hoped that was Haer’Dalis’ work,” muttered Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it possible Irenicus is using magic to communicate with the taint?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin grumbled and stared off into the window. “Perhaps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have an idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do have an idea. I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>perhaps</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he snapped. “He may be doing it, but he may not be. Channeling divinity like that is the perchance of worshippers and those in possession of a splinter — Chosen or other endowed, such as godschildren.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a dead god,” said Jaheira. “Bhaal isn’t granting spells or prayers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Astute assessment, druid.” He stood. “If that is all, I intend to return to sleep before that insufferable bard begins singing again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re leaving?” asked Jaheira, outraged. “Thalia is having nightmares of — of dead gods, and murder, and Imoen being tortured, and Irenicus—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I to do?” Edwin sneered. “Provide guidance? No. I am not a nursemaid and shall not be warming milk or rocking anyone to sleep. The godchild, more than any here, should be beyond that.” He took a threatening step closer to Jaheira, who only glared down at him. “And you would do well to remember your place. Disposable. You are out of your depth in a puddle on the street, while you think to swim in deeper waters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about the bird?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The offending creature stared with an unnatural intelligence, like a statue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waved a hand, but his detached eyes lingered on Jaheira with hate. “Merely a fiendish familiar. Every individual who has touched a plane or the Weave finds one in their possession eventually. It poses no danger, aside from that to our enemies. Banish it or command it, it is of no interest to me. Pay no attention to Irenicus’ taunts — and do not wake me again unless you dream of Bhaal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin’s robes swished behind him as he left. Thalia breathed a sigh of relief. When the wizard was most irritated, he was most confident. For now, at least, there was nothing to fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But He could still access her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she had gained a terrifying vision of what power awaited her in Bhaal’s plane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No fear but Him and the taint. It was fear she had learned to live with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had long assumed these nightmares of yours were driven by stress and natural grieving,” said Jaheira softly, as they were left alone. “Those… Those I share. I might’ve… We might’ve…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heart-to-hearts,” she reminded her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia took in Jaheira’s armoured and sleepless state. The bird assault had knocked her quarterstaff aside. Thalia didn’t want to know the intent behind bringing that, but it smarted. For nights, she had turned a blind eye to the presence outside as she turned restlessly in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira sat on the edge of her bed. Thalia couldn’t stop the flinch as she neared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t let you kill another like that,” said Jaheira in a soft voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’re defending the commonfolk against the monster. How gallant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m protecting </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> from this damnable curse.” She winced and softened her voice again. “You can’t think of it as part of you. We’ll figure out how to rid you of it, but you can’t surrender.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced to the bird. Without a word, it understood her request and swooped down to perch on the bedpost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we’ve any chance of defeating Him, of getting Imoen back, of avenging Khalid,” she said, “we can’t leave a single tool on the table.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at the cost of your soul.” Jaheira bowed her head. “Vengeance is for the living, not the dead. Do not misunderstand, I will move the planes and hells to avenge Khalid. Still, the balance of lives evens out, always, as it does here. Imoen is one soul. As you are. Exchanging—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would give up my soul to see Imoen safe again,” said Thalia hollowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira’s smile was tense, but she stood and retrieved her quarterstaff. “I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’ve something to say, say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira lingered at the door. “To risk life is something familiar to us all. I would risk my life to see Khalid’s murder avenged. Closure. Peace. I did risk my life to avenge Gorion. But we are not discussing life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say it,” said Thalia through gritted teeth. Jaheira wouldn’t have stood guard outside her room had she not already feared it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if you become Sarevok, consumed by it?” asked Jaheira. Sorrow bit her features sharper. “Please. Abandon these powers, before it’s too late. Listen to those who love you instead of that blasted wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia didn’t listen to him. She used his knowledge as a warning, but surely Edwin’s own line of what might be too far was far further than she wanted. It wasn’t a matter of want, but need. Could she do that to Imoen, though? Rescue her sister and leave her to face a Thalia ravaged by Bhaal? As Thalia’s mind wandered, the bird vanished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira smiled, taking the banishment as an answer. “Try to get some rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rest did not come. It and Thalia were old enemies who hadn’t seen each other in years. She lay, twisting, and watched dawn lighten her room. She was the first downstairs, though she didn’t eat. By small miracles, she resisted drink. Exhaustion and coffee had her eyes drawn to the shadows, awaiting enemies to leap from the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo descended the stairs shortly after dawn. His eager warm smile extended his fair greetings, and he ordered a small market stand worth of food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our days are too short to not indulge in all of life’s little joys,” he said confidentially. “That is one thing that sparrow has right. Death could come at any time! And we all should hope to die with full bellies and full hearts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia gave a small smile, but had no appetite. Inn stew, brown and rich with spices and goat. A loose rice porridge. Assorted fruits, olives, and breads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo topped his stew with a fistful of nuts. “Come, now,” he laughed. “Eat! Something other than air must support that sword-arm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coffee,” she grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eye sparkled. “Coffee lets you batter around nagi like paper dolls, eh? A samurai, achieved such peace and noble serenity that mere food is below her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen was spreading some of the tales Jaheira has told him,” he said, leaning forward. “Though, for how magnificent he is at his own, he has no sense of drama when it comes to others’ deeds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia drank her coffee and turned her gaze out the window. Shops began to open up, their keepers turning around signs and propping their merchandise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not one for conversation, still?” Yoshimo sighed. “Well, then. How about games? Do you like games?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, too hearty and too loud for her short reply. He took her empty mug and stood. “I’ll retrieve my tiles and refill yours, but then we shall play. Perhaps, you will win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia watched him uncertainly. Yoshimo returned, as he said, with a bag of clinking pottery tiles. Glazed in cream, the tiles were divided in two squares, each side arranged with different numbers and patterns of dots. He explained his game and doled out the tiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like to talk,” said Thalia, making her first move. She cared little if she won. Moreso, she wanted to know if Edwin was right. “I do like to listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo perked up more, if that were even possible. “A-ha! You want to hear tales of the Great Yoshimo? You only needed to ask, my friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let him talk, on for ages. They were just as richly embellished and dramatic as Anomen’s own stories — but of burglaries, bounty hunts, and roguish affairs among the city’s intrigue. Thalia doubted if half had a kernel of truth. She played slowly, to stretch out their game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What of your home?” she asked. “You still speak with an accent. You can’t have left it long ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo chuckled. “Do I give it away that easily? Yes, I am from a village in Kara-Tur. Like most, I came into this world by a woman. My father be a man. I was raised in a house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What made you leave home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, his smile faltered. A light passed from his eyes. “My sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sisters are truly a dangerous thing to have,” said Thalia with a small smile. “Judging by you, I, and Anomen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo placed his next tile. It was a poor move — his first. He gripped another tile, too hard, and set it back down. “Yes, well.” He grimaced. “Siblings are rather a different breed of creature — always half the intelligence, twice the charm and wit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Determined to get out of her shadow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said. For several turns, it seemed that was all he would say. He sighed and sat back, taking a swig of his ale. “No. I loved her, even when she came to Faerun and broke our old mother’s heart. She sought the same adventure and glory I had found in Tehei.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is she?” asked Thalia, dreading the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her letters stopped,” he said. “I abandoned my legend in Tehei and, for the sake of our old mother, came to find out what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She played another tile. “I’m sorry for asking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no,” he said distantly. “It’s alright. I tracked down her companions — all dead. No answers as to her, but… silence speaks louder sometimes.” He smiled, but there was no cheer in it. “I’m still looking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you find an answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their game came to a quiet close. Thalia lost, though she was so preoccupied with her thoughts she didn’t notice. What if, when they came to Spellhold, Imoen wasn’t dead but gone? How long would Thalia spend hunting the silence?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo dismissed his sad thoughts as the others arrived. Jaheira joined them and looked just as tired, though Anomen appeared sprightly and bathed. Yoshimo began to probe Haer’Dalis about Sigil, but the bard answered with a dreary ballad in an odd language.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tore her bread into crumbs over her stew, trying to avoid the eye of the raven roosting in the rafters. Not successfully, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some other patrons caught onto Haer’Dalis’ song, falling silent and peering, captivated. He smiled, soft and indulgent, and raised his voice. Red robes appeared at the balcony and, in a typical mood, stormed down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bard!” barked Edwin. “This moaning and groaning might well cost your life some dark evening. Perhaps you know not how dangerous it is to interrupt the concentration of a powerful mage at study, but you very nearly found out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twas only a song of home,” said Haer’Dalis sweetly. “One cannot describe the terrifying majesty of Sigil in words, but the language of the heart leaves all as breathless as the winter morn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, gasping and groaning and moaning—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you could see the things I have seen, you might understand,” he said. “When any step might be a portal and any portal a doorway to a new world, I suspect even yon cold brainbox could be tormented by painful yearning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yearning?” snapped the wizard. “For your freakish carnival world?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him, a woman rushed through the barroom, a flash of canary robes and orange hair. Patrons shoved her aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this the thanks I get?” shouted the woman. “I’ve helped lots of your kind!” She stomped towards Anomen, shoving the wizard aside. “You, are you for hire? As a mercenary, I mean? You look capable and hearty, like you’ve had training?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard blinked, staring in mute outrage at the girl who dared touch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, my lady,” said Anomen at once. “I am a warrior-priest of Helm, initiate in the Most Noble Order—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll require payment for our efforts,” interjected Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl started, eyes wide. Thalia drank her coffee and watched her with a keen eye. Her hair might’ve been orange, but it was a muddy brown colour, not carrot-like. And her nose was too narrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know what I ask, but you wish for a reward? Fine,” she spat. “But we must hurry! I cannot guarantee payment if my land is looted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you mean by </span>
  <em>
    <span>your kind?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> asked Thalia coolly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl flushed. “Nothing! Some people are just more privileged than others. It’s not my fault, but I do my part to help those beneath me. You’d think they’d be grateful.” She worried a ring on her finger, looking back at the rough men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think your nobility makes you better than others?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia!” said Jaheira sharpish. “We’ll take the job, child. What enemy has befouled your home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no time, please,” she begged. “Father wouldn’t leave the keep. My name’s Nalia. Nalia de’Arnise. You can discuss payment with my father. He’ll give you whatever you want!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seven thousand four hundred and sixty eight gold pieces?” asked Thalia with a humourless smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed. This girl was clearly an idiot. “Very well. Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>According to Nalia, they made good time. Days had passed since she had left her keep in the hands of her guardsmen, but it was only a day’s journey by foot. With a cloudless blue sky, the walk promised to be hot, arid, and uninterrupted. The land outside Athkatla proved flat, a plain of gold dry grasses stretching as a sea into the sun. Thalia was no stranger to wheat fields, but this was quite something else. A tiny road wove between the plains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nalia gave Edwin more than one fearful look, but most of her fear was saved for Viconia. A grey scarf blocked the worst of the blinding sun from her eyes, but no mistake could be made. This was a drow. Nalia made the smart choice. Of the two, Thalia would’ve feared Viconia more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aunty doesn’t like me leaving at night,” Nalia was saying to Jaheira, “but how else can I donate to the poor and not be noticed? I’ve pride, too, and I really shouldn’t be seen with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That bleeding heart must cost you a fortune in laundering,” said Viconia with a sharp laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ignore the drow, child. She means no harm, even with a bite,” said Jaheira, not even glancing back. “The creature has no fangs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At last, the tree witch speaks truth,” droned Viconia, “though a mere</span>
  <em>
    <span> creature</span>
  </em>
  <span> I am not. And I shan’t be brushed aside like a bit of dust.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why ever not? Have you something of worth to say, or merely more pollution for the air?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My…” Viconia’s lip twitched as the words pained her and Thalia suspected she wouldn’t continue. “My comments of Khalid were… unwanted, misplaced, and undeserved. Since we travel and share battle…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, drow? Do you intend to apologize? I did not think you capable of such an emotion as regret.” Jaheira turned, hawkish eyes flashing. “Why not simply do as I ask and leave me alone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia started and sneered at the aggression. She spat a curse in drow that sounded very little like an apology. “I tire of you,” she said, bored. “Onwards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nalia let out a shuddering breath she had been holding. “How do you stand it? Being with something like that?” she asked, quietly, but not quietly enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She requires a firm hand and strong skin,” said Jaheira stonily as they continued. “While you have keen empathy, I fear we must leave you outside the keep before we proceed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a child!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Says the child,” said Thalia with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira turned to glare. “So says the woman who has spoken those self-same words a half-hundred times herself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s face burned. Anomen’s chuckle only forced her blush a deeper crimson.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nalia complained of a rest before the sun reached its height. By some instinct, Jaheira managed to find a way to a brook half-hidden by the grasses. The cool water refreshed them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nalia continued to cling to Jaheira and Yoshimo, who seemed as interested in Nalia’s life as he was everyone else’s. Anomen had vanished; a not entirely unwelcome fact. Viconia, without the presence of trees, kept her distance from the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stand back, Edwin,” said Jaheira suddenly, her voice piercing the peace. “It would be unfortunate if you were to disappear under a river rock, though you might find your kin in the mud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard stood from the riverbank and scowled. “Aye, mock me whilst in the very heart your domain, druid, but do not push further than you can handle. Even here, I am more than capable of ending your life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira moved protectively between Nalia and him. “Perhaps, though I doubt you would find the trip back to the cities a peaceful one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Without your nagging, it would be as the sleep of ages,” he said graciously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you noble blood, my raven?” asked Haer’Dalis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was low, almost a pur and startled Thalia. She glanced about, but the bird was nowhere to be seen. Only the tiefling, his face and voice polite but intense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed deeply and sat next to her. “Your cutting words to the pretty little loon. And yet your bearing. You carry yourself unlike any commoner I might’ve met. You are an alluring enigma, a mystery to this sparrow he longs to unravel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia picked at her lunch, smirking. “Is that a line? It sounds a line. Many smooth-tongued bards came to Candlekeep. I know your breed, though you can consider yourself the first to aim it towards me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis laughed merrily. “My word, but you are a suspicious one! I wish I could say it lessened your intrigue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viconia frighten you as well?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffed. “Few frighten me. I might’ve approached the dark knight, had I thought my advances would be received well. Alas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chainmail sung with a gentle musical chime as he resettled on the rock. He basked in the sun, eyes shut and chin tilted. His armor and hair shone the same silver-blue. In the days since recovering him, he had braided much of his hair, holding the longer ones back with a strap of leather across his forehead. Sharp ears, rather longer and pointer than even Viconia’s, held it in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile broadened his lips and he didn’t open his eyes. “I am charmed by your unflinching stare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia snorted at the implication. “Not that, but there’s something about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, this sparrow should hope. He is handsome, witty, talented on battlefield and stage alike. You’ve your choice of reasons to stare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And humble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that goes without saying, my raven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So could the rest of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile grew. “Then, perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>should say more. Even in the deep planes, I’ve heard talk of Candlekeep. The library what attracts beautiful nobles and grand adventurers. How did you come to live there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia hestited. “Very well. My father was the latter. And you’re right,” she said distastefully. “The monastery was flooded with visitors of far, far greater status than my own. Kings, rich men, infamous wizards. What of you? Sigil have nobility?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I was not born in her arms, though she rocked me gentle,” he said lightly. “Miss Raelis first brought me there — quite the adventure, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and her must’ve been close,” said Thalia, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For years. Friends. Lovers, at times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And… you just left her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis shrugged and turned to her. “The spark that once thoroughly captivated me had been blown out. Brazen courage given way to fear in the end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Claim you weren’t afraid, being locked in that prison?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” His eyes darted. “Come, that’s hardly fair. Aye, this sparrow fears all cages and has no shame to speak it. But this fear of Miss Raelis was a different nature, a terror of death, clinging to life in fear of tomorrow’s embrace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s natural to fear death,” she said, uncertain. For the first time, Thalia was beginning to have second thoughts about the odd bard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis turned a curious look to her. “Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> fear death?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question, for its bizarre nature, was asked calmly and stunned her flat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen returned and saved Thalia’s answer. His well-polished armor threw mirror bounces of sunlight. He carried a purple and yellow flower, which he offered to Jaheira with a courtly bow. “My lady, it is rare to find such a sample that may do justice to your—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is this?” she snapped, yellow eyes flashing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A token—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>picked</span>
  </em>
  <span> this?” She snatched it from his hand and a petal fluttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen blinked. “Why, yes. I wished—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where? Show me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was but one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira all but stuffed the flower under his nose. Another petal fell. “Violet morningdews are all but extinct south of the Cloudpeak Mountains!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he said, confused. “I thought it might remind you of your home, left behind, my lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My home.” Jaheira threw the flower to the ground and snarled. “My home… is dead. Do not interfere with nature — or her servants.” She shouldered her pack. “Thalia! We’re moving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, the woes of love,” said Haer’Dalis, clamouring from his rock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dazed, as though he had been hit in the face, Anomen simply stood there. As Viconia chuckled, he had the sense to turn beet red and grumble. Thalia grabbed Anomen by the arm and forced him into a march.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The man who kidnapped my sister and I,” she said in a low voice, “also killed her husband. That’s the Khalid Viconia had been insulting. Now isn’t a good time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She didn’t need to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaheira doesn’t need to do most of what she does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen glared daggers into her back. Over distance and time, his humiliation faded and he grimaced. “Before… Before we met this tiefling, we had shared a conversation,” he said. “And, I do wish to apologize for ending your questioning of my sister so abruptly. I meant no offence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None was taken,” she said sincerely. “I find Imoen hard to speak of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “When a loved one remains in danger, it is hard to think of them with fondness when all that lives is stress. And yearning for happier times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At home, alone, with my father,” said Anomen, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “She seemed as if she held up well, but I think she was merely attempting to ease my guilt. It cannot be easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words weighed on Thalia. “Are you sure you want to give me your coin? Two thousand could go a long way for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen sighed. “I am. It is what she would want of me, I know, and she insists on staying with Lord Cor. Since our mother died…” He swallowed hard past unspoken words. “Moira cares for him, as she did. Even at his drunken worst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know what it’s like to lose a parent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, my lady,” he said, but his words were dim, his mind miles away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the next fork in the road, the golden monotony of fields waned. Horses grazed, tied to fenceposts, and men lounged on stacked crates alongside a campfire. Even without their lecherous look, Thalia would’ve pegged them for highwaymen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oy! Northerners, this here’s a toll road,” one called, standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” asked Jaheira. “And collecting toll on whose behalf?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other men stirred. Some reached for their weapons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” said Nalia gently. “There’s no need for violence. My keep—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your</span>
  </em>
  <span> keep?” His eyebrows shot up and his grin grew. He jerked a head towards one of his men. “Take the little lady. Kill the others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira swiftly brought up her quarterstaff. An arrow snapped against it, just as the leader’s sword bit into the wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the Order!” shouted Anomen, leaping forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others joined the battle, as well, though it did not prove the quick fight Thalia had hoped for. The bandits had skill. More, they had numbers. For moments, she feared they were Shadow Thieves and Jaheira had made a horrid mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bandit watched his flank, holding back until Thalia struck. He waited patiently — cutting like a snake. She let his edge sing too close, hoping to draw his death by pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An arrow hissed. In a split second, she managed to dodge it. Her balance faltered. A boot kicked her gut. Grass scratched her face as she hit the ground. The bandit moved to straddle her and strike deep, snarling. She threw her leg upwards and tripped him. Dodging his falling sword, she drove her own into his neck. Blood spurted into her face as he gurgled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing, Thalia wiped her face free and staggered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The archer, secured too far into the grass, notched a new arrow. She would never be able to reach him in time. The others had their own skirmishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grit her teeth and called it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird appeared in a black cloud streaked with green. Brimstone tainted the sweet smell of grass. Its wings pinned, it shot like a cannon. The archer screamed — then, only more shrill as the raven hit its mark and clawed his eyes. The bow fell and he scrambled blindly for the bird, but it flew higher. Thalia crossed the distance and put him out of his misery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The skirmish ended suddenly. She still stared at the red ruin of the archer’s face. Angry gouges scored from hairline to cheekbone. Empty eye sockets stared sightlessly. The sun had already begun to dry the blood. It had worked, even better than she had expected. She wiped her sword off on the grass. A fierce headache pulsed in her own eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Thalia returned to the road, Haer’Dalis’ intense gaze followed her. The bird made a very satisfied noise, echoing in the empty sky. Jaheira stared at it as it circled them. It fluttered down and, before she even realised how close it was, landed on Thalia’s pauldron. It made a throaty sound and nipped a lank strand of hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is quite a trick,” said Yoshimo, beaming. “Very well trained hellbird, I say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ignored the others. Their reactions she knew — or didn’t want to face. She met Anomen’s stunned expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a… sorcerer,” she settled on. “Apologies for not mentioning it, but you hear terrible tales about what happens to magic-users in Amn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen blinked. “I had no idea, my lady. It is true, my homeland has oft extended the cool hand of bureaucracy, but it is not meant in terror. Rather, a control of the danger unsworn wizards may present—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve no intent of being controlled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naturally.” His smile was stiff, eyes hard, and she knew he had more to say on the matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does your familiar have a name, my raven?” asked Haer’Dalis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She brushed past them, leaving their knowing looks and judgments behind. “It’s just a bird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird scoffed and pecked her helmet. She knew it vanished in a puff of smoke when Anomen cursed and stumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This life of adventure you lead is full of excitement and noise and movement, my raven,” continued Haer’Dalis. “You seem well enough adjusted, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you getting at?” she snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me true, are you always this guarded when conversing with your traveling companions?” he asked pleasantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she grunted. “But why are you being so friendly? It’s more unnatural than your hair colour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis frowned, eyes glancing upwards as though he could spy his hairline. “This sparrow assures you, his feathers grow this way. And he could speak for many a reason, the last of which being friendship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Such as?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps I am curious of my saviours. Or I might be nosy about every companion I have in my travels,” he mused. “Mayhaps this clever sparrow seeks to root your little secrets from their dark hiding places and save them in a flask for a rainy day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced sidelong at him. The more he spoke, the stranger he seemed. And the more it unnerved her. “You do like the sound of your voice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most do,” he said, and its typical melodic pur only deepened like a foul accent. Haer’Dalis smiled, slow and deliberate. “I travel oft, both for companions and for the scenery. This sparrow cannot imagine a stationary life, locked in place, secreted away from the danger and excitement of the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against her will, a smile found her own lips, but it ached. “You remind of Imoen. Free-spirited and oblivious to how often you could get yourself killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all die one day. Whilst many men dream of withering in their bed with decades and decades of safe boredom, I would rather seek out Death myself. The graze of her lips in battle, the threat of her fury in another’s eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not enough danger and excitement with Raelis, then?” she asked, half-wishing she could’ve returned him when he offered to come with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Miss Raelis,” he said with savour. “I suppose she carried much the same, but a different sort. Intrigue and machinations, drawn behind the curtains. We all need a change of scenery from time to time and it was destined to end. This scenery suits this sparrow well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had to chuckle. “There’s excitement in my life, well enough, but it’s hardly enjoyable. Constant travel on dirty roads, seedy inns, bloody battles, ambushes, uncertainty.” She glared at an anthill. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Insects.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tsk, tsk, my raven,” he said, a light hand on his chest. “I begin to wonder if I’ve given a woefully poor first impression. Still, I wonder if I may be disappointed with what lay in the prime beyond this quest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would be nice,” she admitted, “to travel for the sake of travel, instead of running to fetch errands and bounties at the whim of everyone but myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis sighed. “Aye, it seems tiresome when put in such terms. Regardless, it is a pleasure to follow where you lead, my raven.” As Nalia ahead of them stopped, he turned to look at Thalia. “Never doubt me,” he said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their pleasant conversation died a quick death. His words and eyes crawled through her skin, the gentle intensity holding her prisoner. Thalia stared, hopelessly enraptured, and she had the distinct feeling he meant more than what he wanted to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nalia gasped, shrill, and recovered her senses. “Oh, no!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The keep, a determined grey speck on the horizon, began to take shape. A thin plume of smoke extended into the sky. Nalia took off down the road blindly, Jaheira calling after her. After a curse, Thalia and the others followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nalia staggered and managed to find her voice, though couldn’t tear her eyes off the smoke. A forest extended eastward and the limits held a hastily fortified palisade. The keep settled in a small valley, the grasses greener and shrubs full of vibrant flowers. Now, blood and bodies splattered the approach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The keep has fallen,” said Nalia, heartbroken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We must know what we are up against,” said Jaheira impatiently. “Child, you have led us too long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would’ve said, but others abandoned me when they found out.” She took a deep breath. “Trolls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You needn’t worry on our part,” said Yoshimo with a chuckle. “From what I’ve seen, Thalia and her allies can protect themselves from just about anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A frontal assault would be a slaughter, if any have so far survived within,” said Anomen. “The Order would send scouts as a beachhead to secure a position, to pinch the enemies between.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira appraised him grudgingly. “Excellent. Yet, I spot only one scout, unless you volunteer to go with Yoshimo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a secret door, along the western wall,” said Nalia eagerly. “Behind the morning ivy. Come, I’ll show you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” said Anomen gravely, “but this is not your home any longer, but a battlefield. Leave it to those with experience, my lady. I shall secure your lands and destroy the beasts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If the little loon seeks adventure, who are you to deny her, gloryhound?” asked Haer’Dalis slickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is my home and I will—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you call me, bard?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Less arguing,” snapped Thalia. “More rescuing. Show us this damned door. We’ll do what you’re paying us for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nalia stomped off. Surprisingly, she held herself with only a small gasp as they passed a few of the bodies. Guardsmen, lives given for their still-trapped lord. The bushes hid them from the castle, though Thalia could see no eyes watching them in the keep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nalia lifted a stiff tapestry of ivy, dotted with gold flowers. Set deep in a shadowy alcove, waited a door. It opened soundlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” begged Nalia. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, save my father. Aunty might be there, too.” She bit her lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she’s not such a priority,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say that! Her bedroom’s on the third floor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling her eyes, Thalia pushed forward into the keep. It was naught but blackness and, as Thalia waited for her eyes to adjust, smelled brimstone. And little claws as he perched on wood. She had the peculiar sense of looking through the bird’s eyes. A world of greys, clear but the wrong perspective. A storeroom, empty and calm, orderly with crates. She watched herself take several steps forward, shoulders too tense, as the others followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird clicked. He was trying to be helpful. His mistress couldn’t see so well in the dim — but, no fear. He could be her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia scowled. The last thing she needed was the taint having an actual mouthpiece in her head during waking hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she was back in her own eyes. Jaheira lit a ball of sunlight. A storeroom, as the bird had shown her, though he had vanished again. Sacks of grain and barrels stored aside for the coming winter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trolls’ blood is a key ingredient in most healing potions,” said Jaheira. “I’m sure healers would pay good coin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Order shall always have need of such potions and poultices,” said Anomen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hopefully this Lord de’Arnise will pay us what we need,” said Thalia, inspecting the supplies, but it all seemed undisturbed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know not Amnian lords,” said Anomen darkly. “They’re more wed to their coffers than any woman.” He shouldered open the door. Candles had long gone extinguished, though Jaheira’s light illuminated the stone corridor. Too narrow to fight properly in, it was thankfully empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the guardsmen abandoned the keep?” asked Anomen indignantly. “By Helm, they left without even a fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The girl tricked us,” spat Thalia. “Never any trolls here to begin with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold,” said Jaheira sternly. “Trolls might not see or hear well, but they are not idiots. And they are common enough in these coastal mountains.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corridor opened up into a charming great hall. Wrought iron chandeliers hung low, the long oak tables upturned. A struggle, but bloodless, and no bodies to show for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A barest of warning to our noble warriors,” drawled Edwin, “trolls’ blood is prized for its alchemical properties due to the beast’s vast aptitude for regeneration. They may only be wounded by fire—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or acid, yes, wizard, we know,” snapped Jaheira. “Ensure your spells hit their mark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia inspected an upturned table. Still, no blood could be found. The scratches on the stones even looked to be of dog. She stood to find Edwin staring pointedly at her. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If your mind turned any slower, it would go backwards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia flushed. “Fire. I’m aware.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thump</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A great leathery foot slid across the stones. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thump.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prepare yourself,” called Anomen. His sword sword sung from his sheathe and he took up a stance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The troll’s scent rounded the corner first. Musty and thick with rot and moss. He filled the great double doors, molted grey-green skin wrinkled deep and dotted with mangy fur. The troll swiped and claws like daggers drew across Anomen’s shield. Anomen’s sword sliced through, deep, but the wound opened bloodlessly. The troll cried at the pain — and it healed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At its cry, a chorus of bellows haunted the halls. The keep was not abandoned after all. Footsteps neared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wizard!” shouted Jaheira, joining Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm? What was that, druid? Oh, you look like you have it by the horns. I’m sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>nature’s warrior </span>
  </em>
  <span>has well her own supply of fire and acid. After all, both are natural creations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grit her teeth. The wizard knew she had never manifested fire like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The footsteps approached — and the stench thickened. The troll shrieked as Viconia’s crossbow bolt bit its shoulder. Poison dripped, but not acid. Yoshimo thrust his blade deep into the side, a hit that should’ve ripped the guts open. Skin opened to expose organs within and the troll spat blood, but the wound began to seal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A second troll thundered down the hall, growling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back away!” shouted Haer’Dalis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira responded first, dragging Thalia backwards, as the bard cried a sonorous incantation and spread his hands wide. Anomen raised his shield at the last moment. Flames fanned from Haer’Dalis’ fingertips, following the deep wound in the first troll. Hair burnt with a rancid smell. The troll screamed in agony and stumbled, tearing a door from the wall as it fell. Haer’Dalis spun gracefully and directed the ribbons of flame to the others the troll’s bellows had drawn. Growls turned to whimpers and the footsteps retreated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” said Jaheira thickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis stepped a bow. “And so it goes, my hawk. Shall we continue? This stench be foul indeed — as foul as any violet morningdew, to judge by the look upon your face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira’s nostrils flared. Thalia snorted and thought the druid might smack him upside the head. A small innocent smile found Haer’Dalis as Jaheira shoved past him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve more trolls to kill,” she said coldly. “And, this time, the wizard best prove why I tolerate his miserable presence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin did, though he took his sweet time summoning those acid mephits. The summoning came quick enough when Viconia flew through the air with the force of a hit. The mephits danced, floating and cackling. The trolls fell quickly and Jaheira moved to haul Viconia to her feet. Viconia panted and clutched her side, clenched in pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold, Viconia,” said Jaheira. “I will heal you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gah, w-why would you care?” she muttered. “Can… heal myself… half-breed mongrel…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is no sin to accept assistance when you are in need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just do it,” she said through gritted teeth. “I wish not to suffer your tedious moralizing any longer than I have already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A glowing white-blue light filled the wound. Viconia snarled her thanks, ducking to the shadows to be rid of them. Yet, it did not last long. More trolls awaited them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had more than one near miss, half-focused as she was on trying to find fire. After the third encounter, she felt blood drip from her nose and she gave up. In her gloves, her hands burned. Yet she could not conjure the fire — not like Haer’Dalis. The bard had a bag of tricks, it seemed. Each time, his hands filled with fire or acid or frost or glitter. Each had their own tune or graceful dance step. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the sounds of the skirmishes, Anomen’s teeth ground fiercely. Already, he had cast several prayer-spells of Helm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” asked Jaheira, concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia dabbed at her nose tenderly. The pain radiated down her head and neck, but she shook herself of it. “I’m fine. Fire… doesn’t come naturally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, my lady,” said Anomen loudly. “Let me heal you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia let him do it with a wince. Jaheira rolled her eyes. Blue-white light radiated from his hands as he spoke and the warmth washed over her. Her nose calmed, but the ache remained. She gave him a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.” Anomen returned it. “You are most welcome. A warrior must be at their full strength to meet enemies such as trolls, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> skills will prove indispensable regardless the foes we face at battle—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen,” said Haer’Dalis blithely, “I noticed you pulling back as the troll stumbled last fight. Next time you see such an opening, my advice is to take advantage of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” said Anomen through gritted teeth. “It is time for you to stop pushing your weight around and leave the fighting to those of us who can handle the front line.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He met his eye, grim as the grave. “Talk as you wish. For all your swagger, you wouldn’t last a day upon the planes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen rounded on him, hand on the hilt of his sword. “We are not on the planes, harlequin.” He lowered his voice. “And, if I were you, I would remember that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shall, gloryhound. I shall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the others proceeded up the stairs, Yoshimo chuckled and slung an arm around Haer’Dalis’ shoulders. “You should not be so glum, friend. You will start to find enemies in unexpected quarters — or stinkbugs under your pillow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye, the stinkbugs may join my dagger, parrot.” Haer’Dalis detangled himself and gestured for Thalia to go first. “Onwards, my raven, before Edwin exhausts the infinite patience of a druid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A clash of steel drew their attention and sent them running after the others. Thalia blinked, confused. A guardsman in heavy plate armor fought against Anomen in single combat. The narrow hall hindered their movement, but the guard screamed in a wordless rage. His greatsword thrashed on Anomen’s shield. Jaheira stood back, hand poised for a spell in case. Edwin watched with a smirk. The guard had lost his helm and his crazed expression snarled. He left his defence wide open and, in a moment of triumph, Anomen managed to stab him clean through the neck. Blood pooled as he collapsed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis raised a lithe brow. “His mind was clearly addled. I might’ve charmed the man and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can keep your charm to yourself, actor,” snapped Anomen, his face red. “He was a great threat—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now a great stain on the floor,” said Edwin curtly. He sidestepped the pooling blood and, luckily for him, Anomen didn’t take his comment as an insult.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen held the bloodied sword at his side. Thalia reached out a hand to steady him and he jerked from the touch, eyes lit with a familiar bloodlust. Pride fueled through swords and battle. A thrill. His breathing evened and he threw himself against the next trolls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they fell, smoking, Thalia heard a muffled murmur behind a door. Third floor. She listened hard and looked to Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nalia’s aunt,” she said at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They followed the dull sounds, but the door was locked. Thalia hammered at it. No trolls blocked their exit currently, but that was liable to change. Yoshimo knelt to pick it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A guard opened it, sword at the ready, and Yoshimo scampered backwards. The guard sighed in relief when he spotted them. “Might I introduce the Lady Delicia Caan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stout woman with iron hair and lips glared from behind him. They had barricaded themselves in a rich bedroom, divided with intricately carved wooden panels. Rather than troll, it smelled of sandalwood perfumes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” exclaimed Caan. “This nightmare grows! Yet more hooligans tracking filth through the halls. We shall have to vacation a tenday while the keep is deloused.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re here to rescue you,” said Jaheira, dumbstruck. “Your niece hired us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Caan folded her arms, her lips thinning to nothing. “Oh, rot. I told her about consorting with such creatures, soiling herself with the lessers. It will bring us all our deaths!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lessers?” demandedThalia, pushing forward. The guardsman took a new grip on his sword. “How many of your own guardsmen and servants have died, while you cower under bedsheets?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, they did,” said Caan with a high laugh. “It is their duty. Am I to extend gratitude for a task to be relished? It is their honour, their place, by their blood—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you should join them,” said Thalia coldly. Blood burned in her ears and, before she realised what she was doing, her mind ran through the motions. Knock the guard off his balance. He had taken off his helm, relaxed, leaving his neck exposed— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia,” said Anomen, outraged. “This is a noble lady—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Thalia turned her anger to him, Jaheira stepped forward. “We are sorry, my lady, but we have risked our lives—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you should,” said Caan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira grabbed Thalia’s sword-arm before she could raise it. She glared at the old woman, who only met her with a dispassionate superior smirk. Her status might be irrelevant in the face of death — but they were wealthy. Thalia needed money. She slunk back and turned back down the hall. She spat at a portrait sporting one of their ancestors — haughty and gilded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think a month amongst the spiders of Lolth might deal with her ill sense of superiority,” said Viconia lightly. “The elg’caress should know when she meets her betters, blood or no blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you find any such spiders, let me know,” she said through gritted teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are more like to kill me first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia paced, shame and anger winding with adrenaline. The tenseness of a fight tightened her muscles, the lusting itch for blood. She could be frightened of its intensity later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others rejoined her shortly, Jaheira leading them down the stairs to the main floor, and then searching out further staircases. Jaheira’s face was carved in stone, eyes dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t apologize,” said Thalia bluntly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some things you do not say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her life was in our hands—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And would you have left her to a grisly death?” She stopped them on the dim stairs and forced Thalia to face her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira continued down the stairs. “The lady, Nalia’s father’s sister, said Lord de’Arnise was kidnapped by the trolls and dragged to their dungeons—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Filled with rebellious peasants, I am sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—to reveal a treasure,” finished Jaheira in a hard voice. “She is by far not the only arrogant noblewoman in the land, and certainly not the creature most deserving death in this castle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, this world is cold, but we all must eat in it,” said Yoshimo. In the cramped spiral staircase, his voice echoed hollow. “More important things await our blades.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unwillingly, Thalia swallowed the humility and followed them into the dungeon. Her heart raced, breath thinning as the stone walls seemed to close in on them. Her chest tightened. Jaheira’s sunlight beat back the darkness. Walls of cells, lined with rough iron bars and manacles. Candles had been left unattended, unlit.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The candle, just out of reach.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia clenched and unclenched her hand uselessly. Imoen screamed in the depths of her mind, pleading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lit the candle nearest with a touch. The flame transfixed her, flickering with her rapid breath. Her chest strained against the leather and linen padding. Each breath pushed against it, the weight heavier than the breath before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia,” said Jaheira gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leapt back from the soft voice, struggling to pull herself together. The yellow eyes were iron. Brittle and hard and unyielding — but easy to lean onto. For a moment, they supported her. And Thalia continued on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dungeon held naught but more trolls. She fought in a daze, distracted, and paid for it. Even with Jaheira and Anomen’s spells, the troll threw her across the room like a ragdoll. Pain shot down her back. Staring at the ceiling of the dungeon — a web of dangling chains, wet slimy stones — powerful magic thrummed the air around her. Lights flashed. Smells flared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brimstone and troll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird screamed, alongside the troll. Tiny clawed feet scratched on stone, then across her chain. Beady black eyes stared down at her curiously. A sharp beak.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re hurt, mistress? Why? No trolls. No blood. No feathers, either. Oh, no! Fear not, I shall find you feathers. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia struggled to find a voice — find any words to put into it. The bird brought her back. The others. They needed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she even could roll to her feet, the bird took off again. She tentatively returned to the fight. Mephites, elementals, dense fog — Edwin left his mark on the battle. Jaheira lingered close to her, guarding her more closely. Thalia couldn’t bring herself to feel embarrassed. She didn’t even notice when the last troll fell. The bird landed on her shoulder, prodding and insistent, with a goose feather in his beak. Absently, she took it and tucked it away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hours passed in a heady blur. Lord de’Arnise had already been killed by the trolls, who had found no treasure. His mangled body was still recognisable, if only. Caan was retrieved, as well as Nalia and the guardsmen who had fled the keep. Nalia cried and hugged her father’s corpse. She recovered and, against her aunt’s wishes, asked them to spend the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hours dragged day into dusk and night. A tally was made of surviving servants, as the guards cleared the keep of troll corpses. Dinner was a sudden but lush affair. It turned ashen in her mouth, even as the survivors celebrated with bawdy stories and louder music. They eyed Haer’Dalis uncertainly, but the bard charmed them soon and led the chorus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia couldn’t find the present until Nalia spoke over dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s head snapped up. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Nalia flushed. “I am to be engaged, to a wretched disgusting man. I tried my best to evade it, but… it was set between my father and another lord years ago. A business deal as children. My betrothed will inherit my lands, the keep, the commoners — and he is no kinder than Aunty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are too old to seek a warden, my lady,” said Anomen. “And I will not interfere in a betrothal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you are still noble blood,” she burst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are not a family of great repute or riches,” he said delicately. “Such an arrangement would be unseemly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached across the dining table for his hand. “Sir knight, you saved my castle, my lands. As a… suitable reward, I could name you their keeper a number of years — until I can wriggle my way out of this contract.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The offer is generous.” Anomen sipped his water, frowning hard. “I’ve responsibilities, I’m afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A wife? I assure you, I mean nothing of the sort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” His eyes flickered over them, back to Thalia. “I will do you the dignity of considering this offer, my lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I buried my father,” said Nalia in a furious hush. “The least we can do is ensure his lands and legacy are respected — the way he would want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something very unchildlike entered her eyes and Thalia found herself liking the woman for the first time. The day hiking and days more in Athkatla had left her hair untamed, porcelain skin roughed. She had changed to new rich robes, but they suited her ill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen thought on the offer with reluctance, his hands folded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, now, Anomen,” laughed Yoshimo. “Your father would be well proud of you, lord of a castle in your—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you know of my father?” he demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo blinked. “If things are such secrets, perhaps not give them to the air.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a private conversation,” he said testily, standing. “Beg pardon, my lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nalia dismissed him with a sigh and the dinner soon dissolved. Thalia found herself absently wandering the castle. Troll and fire mingled in her nostrils. With a squint, it could pass for a dream — Bhaal’s fortress, the Blood Throne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen would leave. As he should. The de’Arnise Keep would be a fine place for his sister and him. Perhaps with the wealth, he might be able to aid his father, drunken bastard he was. Yoshimo and Haer’Dalis were fine fighters. Jaheira could hold a front line with Thalia, assuming she wasn’t dazed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would miss him, she realised. The pompous, arrogant, rash fool with all his false chivalry that he thought made him a knight. Drunk with pride and bloodlust. Under it all, he was alright. He was ugly and familiar, the way a mirror was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia slid against a cold, distant corner of the castle wall. The sounds of the dinner had quieted to a din, vibrating in the walls. At some time, she seemed to have left her armor aside, though she had kept her sword. The hours of the afternoon left her confused. She vaguely remembered Nalia offering her own wardrobe, so she didn’t have to go to dinner in common clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira should’ve had a spell to heal her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the dim greyness, a flash of red stood out like blood. Thalia raised a hand and the candles next to her lit. Edwin did not sit, though he came nearer than she would’ve liked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not fond of celebrations?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sneered. “Such paltry thanks and head-pats are below a wizard of talent such as I. This entire venture was trivial. This dysfunctional, loathsome family should’ve been left to its troll-infested grave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you came to say, say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He inclined his head, looking down at her. The firelight played over the black tattoos across his head. “I saw it,” he whispered. “The desire to strike down that noble wench, to take your due by her lands and accounts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia pulled her legs up. “Not my right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin scoffed. “I don’t understand you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I’d rather you didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most people move no more than the dirt it takes to bury them,” he said impatiently. “You’ve the opportunity to bring the world to its knees — to extract payment for its crimes, to shape it in your image. Why—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not me.” She stood. “You think I’m lying, but, truly, all I want is Imoen safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile curled. “Lie to the druid. Lie to yourself. Perhaps, though, it is not smartest to lie to he who may aid you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” she grunted. “Yes, I wanted to kill the hellsdamned woman, take the last seven-and-a-half thousand from this keep by force.” She lowered her voice to a hiss. “But I didn’t! And </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what’s important. I am not my father — and that will not be my destiny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something akin to respect entered his eyes and he nodded slowly. “Destiny is a tool to seduce the lucky into arrogance and the unfortunate into compliance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be mighty lucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His jaw clenched. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Luck</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the furthest thing from my mind — trapped on your barbaric coasts, tied to an oblivious battle-shocked Bhaalspawn—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The candle flared, its flame stretching taller than it should’ve. Thalia jumped and it retreated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, pardon me, you are the very paragon of stability.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doing the best I can.” Thalia’s face burned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he said, troubled. “And your best will still get you killed, if you do not handle yourself with care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Concerned for my well-being? I would be touched, but I’d rather strangle you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hardly deliver a corpse to Thay, now, can I?” he asked with a smile. He folded his arms and retreated back down the hall. “Pleasant dreams.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His reminder left her cold and shaking. Thalia licked her fingers and extinguished the flame. In the darkness of the corner, hidden, the threat felt less great. It was chilidish, to hide from such invisible monsters. But Thay would not find her in a dark corner. Thay would be a long way off still. Many miles and months, maybe a year or more. But it would only be a new chapter of this tenth hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of a long corridor, a new figure appeared. A man in a lavender cloak. He walked straight-backed, but his head bowed low. He stepped into the moonlight at a balcony and sighed. Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia managed to stand and joined him. He smiled at her, unsurprised, and leaned over the balcony. Behind the keep, a village spread out among orchards. Rice fields reflected the moon like shining mirrors. A river flowed in the furthest distance, a silver ribbon nestled among towns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking over your new lands?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen sighed again, eyes tensed bitterly. “I’ve thought on Lady Nalia’s offer and, while it is dearly tempting, I gave you mine word. I will accompany you to slay this wizard Irenicus and save your Imoen. A keep is harder to replace than a life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His faith sat unwell with her, especially when she knew it was so undeserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know everything,” she said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know enough.” His smile held no humour. “I do not need to know what Irenicus did to you in your months of imprisonment. I see how you flinch at his name, how you looked at those dungeons, how you speak in anger before thinking, how you fight. I see your scars. My lady, I need to know no more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t tell you about my powers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that is a mistake you will amend,” said Anomen with confidence. “Spellfiddlers are not held in esteem here, though you should’ve known me better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” said Thalia with a wince. The deception hung bitter in her throat with unspoken words. “I should’ve told you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apology accepted, my lady.” He stood upright. “Now, if you will, I must give Lady Nalia her response.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen turned from the balcony and Thalia shut her eyes, hoping to find the strength — or cowardice — to stay silent. Footsteps retreated back into the keep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen,” she called, the word a dagger in her mouth. “Let me tell you a story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He returned, confused, but waited as she searched for words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twenty years ago, during the Time of Troubles, the gods were forced to walk the lands in mortal form. Many mortals managed to slay gods and steal their power.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” said Anomen, frowning. “Cyric rose during the Troubles. What about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One god, he was forewarned of his death and so he split his divine essence into the body of each woman who followed him. They each gave birth to a child.” Thalia couldn’t raise her eyes from the fields to look at him. “These children, in time, would be able to access this divinity. This… power.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twenty years ago,” he repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “Twenty-one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a — a child of a god?” asked Anomen, pained. “All that story about a sister, a father—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All true,” she said swiftly. She faced him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Gorion raised me all my life. I named him father, but he and my mother had no relations. I grew up alongside Imoen, a sister in all but blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shut his eyes and braced himself. “What god?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would be it was Helm,” said Thalia with a wry smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me,” he said coarsely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no kind or easy way to say it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bhaal. The Lord of Murder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen twisted from her hand and paced the length of the balcony, back to her. “A foul and reprehensible patron of evil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His anger hurt no less because she had expected it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she said. “You should take Nalia’s offer. Bring your sister here, perhaps your father, too. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>be proud and he might find sobriety outside the city.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s breath whistled and he shook his head. “Does it speak to you? Control you? Bhaal’s power?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Thalia thought again. “It speaks, often, but I don’t listen to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he returned to the railing to stand next to her, but his eyes were dark and lost on the horizon. “That raven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A… recent development.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, then, your powers are </span>
  <em>
    <span>developing?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He cursed. “I can see why you didn’t want to register your magics with the Cowled Wizards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she said regretfully. “And I don’t know where they will lead. Still, I know I would gladly give my life to rescue Imoen, knowing my death would strengthen my evil siblings. Jaheira has told you of Sarevok. He was another Bhaalspawn, one who gave in.” She hesitated. “I wouldn’t blame you if you left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gave my word,” he said, hanging his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I relieve you of it. Irenicus knew what I was when he kidnapped the four of us. He experimented on me, the extent of which I still don’t know. Imoen… bore her own pains. But, Khalid didn’t survive the dungeon.” She sighed and the death weighed on her. “Privately, I would be surprised if we all survived this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen took a deep breath and grimaced. The wind waved through the fields like ocean waves, bringing the scents up to them. The sky darkened with clouds and hid the stars from view. Thalia would’ve given anything to know what he was thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We…” he started tentatively. “We all must fight our demons. Some bear names of vices, others regrets. You are not the only one to have the ghost of a father hang over you.” He stood and his frown deepened. “And, you appear human. Your quest, regardless whatever else you are, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> good. I intend to see this through and rescue your sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared, stunned. Her voice vanished under her. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen smiled. “Don’t ask me to reconsider.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said passionately. “I — This means…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lay a hand on her shoulder as he passed. “Save your groveling. I still need to give Nalia my answer. You can continue then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia laughed and a weight lifted from the bottom of her gut, one she didn’t even know she carried. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed. She looked over the village again. It truly was a beautiful night.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Nether Scroll</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a dream, she knew. Still, it was hard to pull back. The memories were a decade old, faded and bitter, but the words shone as bright as the day she had first heard them.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ugly brat. No wonder your mommy gave you up to Oghma.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She hoped you’d be less stupid. Pity what you got doesn’t have a cure.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Father says red hair means you been cursed by devils. Should we go checking for a tail?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys had made Imoen cry. Hit her. Pulled her hair. Lifted her skirts. It had been the last time she wore skirts for years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Candlekeep. Imoen had fled behind the barn, tears streaking her dress. It was pink, like always. Even at ten, Thalia was strong. She had been heckling the guardsmen to teach her. Some of the younger ones thought it was funny to teach Gorion’s kid to brawl. In a few days, they would be cast out of the monastery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys were sons of visiting dignitaries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the first time Thalia had ever gotten into a fight. They were plump, spoiled, mean — and didn’t have a chance. She had knocked one to the ground and pummeled him senseless. A broken nose. Blood ran. Another tried to wrench her off, succeeding with his weight alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia rolled off and tackled him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was fear in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was a child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter what the dream said, she wasn’t. As she recognised the illusion for what it was, she grew taller, broader. Her clothes shifted and a sword hung at her belt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia clenched and unclenched her fists. She knew how it went. After another twenty minutes, Gorion would come hunting for them. He would bring the boys to a youngling cleric and heal their bruises. Some tea by the fire would soothe Imoen’s nerves. Thalia would go to the captain of the guards the next morn, adrenaline fire in her blood, and ask to learn the sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had never known it, but it was a first step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Run back and hide under your daddy’s robes,” snapped Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confused, the vision obeyed. The boys fled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why… Why do they gotta be so mean to us?” whimpered Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shut her eyes against the pain in her voice. So young, so helpless. Had Imoen ever been that small? Knobbly knees, long hair in tangles and tatters, rips in her dress from climbing the rooftops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia made a show over inspecting the scraped elbow. “They pushed you,” she whispered, remembering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen giggled, the memory pushing on even if Thalia didn’t know her lines. “Jealous of what? Polishing tables?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jealous we have someone as cool as Mr G,” said Thalia, nodding. It had been their childhood nickname. As toddlers, neither could say </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gorion</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “He’s had more adventures than they’re ever gonna have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re gonna have more,” she promised. “Ankle’s twisty, can…?” Imoen reached up and, instead of letting her lean, Thalia picked her up in her arms. “Oh, my brave dashing hero!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps Gorion’s image was somewhere, too. Thalia hoped so. Even a glimpse would be more than she expected, more than she dared to hope for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” asked Imoen, replying unbidden to something Thalia had said years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line sprung to her mind and she gave it voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Im, I’ll always protect you. You see, I’ll learn the sword from… from…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The important words had been spoken and a dire chill settled over her. The vision shifted. The great white library of Candlekeep darkened, stone crumbling and a blackened ivy devouring its shine. Imoen vanished from her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So sweet, I may vomit,” droned Bhaal from behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia searched, the last cobwebs of her childhood banished. He waited at the door of the barn, just as he looked before he had been killed by Cyric — before he had ascended. An absolutely ordinary man with dark hair. He could’ve worked for Mae’Var. Then, she met his eyes and knew this assassin was no mortal man. A predator. A killer. A fallen god. And a parasite to her soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You dropped me in it,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but I didn’t expect your first enjoyment of bloodshed to be so saccharine.” He stepped from the wall and grass greyed and died under his step. “Where’s your promise now, girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His taunt echoed in Imoen’s voice. An illusion that made her flinch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the point of this?” she demanded. “All Bhaalspawn get your little messages, like letters every tenday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To make contact with the other half of the… soul that has grown around me,” said Bhaal, his eyes roaming more than her body. “You’ve been poking and prodding. Awfully rude. Unlocking all sorts of doors, don’t you ever wonder if I may open them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s blood ran cold, a finger sliding down her spine. “You… Can you take control of me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can I take control of you?” He smiled, wide and slow, to reveal a mouth of sharp teeth. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a rumbling of stone, the visage shifted and Thalia found herself staring into her own features. A mirror. Bhaal wore her face, smiled through her lips. It turned her into nothing less than a shadow, cruel and cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wake up,” ordered Bhaal. “There’s work to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he snapped his fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wrangling coin from the de’Arnise, despite saving their keep, proved to be a tedious task. Each time one of them broached the subject, Caan would leave flustered servants behind to tell them no. Even Jaheira’s patience ran low. Nalia wrung her hands and muttered things about repairs. Thalia almost killed the girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three thousand. Three. Rather quite short of seven-and-a-half. Less than a hundred a troll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a long, painful walk back to Athkatla. Yoshimo did his best to raise Thalia’s spirits, to no effect. Upon returning to the Copper Coronet, he promised he would find some work and they split the coin. The tasks paid a hundred at a time. Just enough to maintain themselves — food, board, and equipment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To take her mind off her bitterness, Anomen brought them to his favourite armorer. He didn’t mention Bhaal again, though she couldn’t shake the feeling he looked at her different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, Anomen’s last set of full plate was ruined in a minotaur assault in the eastern foothills. Horns nearly gouging flesh — hells’ own hatred in its eyes — the rippling banner of the Most Noble Blah Blah Blah. By the time they were done, Thalia could’ve told the story herself. But he did get them a good deal on the plate. She declined the full set, but accepted the scalloped gauntlets and pauldrons. They moved seamlessly, latched over her blue arming doublet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, fancy dueling daggers, do you?” asked Anomen suddenly. “A dervish tactic, popular among the wild wood elves. Reminds me of the rebellion, stoked by an uncivilized tribe, squatting on Lord Silveran’s land…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia weighed the dagger in her hand. It balanced easily. “Khalid was a half-wood elf, like Jaheira,” she said, cutting off Anomen’s story. “He taught me to fight with two weapons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen grew somber. “I trust he was a fine warrior, of strong heart and mind. Patrarch, we’ll take a dagger, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” She added the leather sheathe onto her belt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I told you how I became a priest?” he asked, but his voice thinned. Suddenly, he didn’t sound much like telling stories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought you were training to become a knight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am, but that is not the way things may go.” Anomen watched carefully as the smith counted their coins across the counter. “One does not show up young and wild and begin knighthood… not within the Order, anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does the Order require?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sponsorship,” he said plainly. “A higher knight or… or a nobleman’s testament of the character of a knight hopeful, who would then pay for the armor and training and such. I had not even a sword.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If your father wouldn’t… It was your mother,” she said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Anomen thanked the smith and exchanged a pass of smalltalk, before the bright morning sun greeted them again. “My mother,” he said in a tight voice, “she was a regular follower of Helm and Sir Ryan Trawl took mercy on me when she petitioned.” He sighed. “They took me in, conditionally. Her word was not strong enough. Taught me to fight with sword and spear and mace. Trained me as a cleric for battle. And, some years later, Sir Ryan Trawl squired me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure it was a grand ceremony,” she said pleasantly, but Anomen’s expression only tightened further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A long road it has been,” he said gruffly. “But I am pleased to serve in the Order under the Watcher’s eye. And I trust Helm is pleased with me as well. How did you come to the sword?” he asked. “Books not take your fancy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” she said. A dark cloud passed over her as she remembered the dream she had had at Castle de’Arnise. “Many of the Candlekeep guards were young men, squires from noble houses in Baldur’s Gate, and fine friends. They taught me, in between the very noble task of guarding some bits of paper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what of you, then, Thalia?” he asked, sharper. “Are you still a force for righteousness? Do you seek to defend the lands against evil — or merely evil that has harmed you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stopped. Throngs of people in the marketplace wove around them like water, jostling. Anomen’s stony expression gave her pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t changed. Not at all. You’ve heard my deeds from Jaheira. I’ll let them speak for me in terms of my </span>
  <em>
    <span>righteousness</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That easy, is it?” he demanded, advancing on her. “I see little evidence of your valour. All I see is someone interested most in themselves and their problems.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia pressed her hand against his chestplate — not shoving, just warning. “If you’ve something to say to me, say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen scowled and pushed past her, red to the roots of his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia followed at a distance. She couldn’t regret telling him the truth. If he had to leave them with petty insults, better he leave knowing her birth. There would be worse ahead before they were done. Far worse, she felt. His sword and company would benefit them, but it was not her place to demand them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Athkatla had become less of a stranger to her. Now, it was only strange. The city roiled much like Baldur’s Gate, oceans of people and scents and voices. By accent and language, perhaps, they were different, but they laughed and carried their own conversations. None paid her much heed. A few eyes trailed her as she made her way through the slums. New steel always drew attention, but no trouble followed her back to the Copper Coronet. Anomen was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully, he was mulling things over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo had picked yet another menial job. Jaheira had been spending more time at the Harpers Hall lately, searching for a job of worth. In the north, the Nashkel Mines had been five thousand. They could use five thousand gold again. She had promised to return later this day, with some task. Haer’Dalis had vanished late into last night, following an admirer of his performance to bed, and had not yet risen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had barely managed to strip off her armor when the door opened behind her. Lazily, she tied the strings to her dayclothes again. A bath would have to wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she asked coarsely. Thalia hadn’t seen hide nor robe of Edwin in days. It had made for a nice change. His sudden appearance couldn’t mean anything good. “Renal need me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard glanced over the new steel, waiting. “No. Arm yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Tentatively, the armor rose of its own accord. It might have been slow and absorbed her concentration, but the practice was sorely needed. Straps buckled. Pins cinched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It better be worth more than five thousand. Because that’s what Jaheira has promised to deliver us, by the Harpers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is.” The wizard sniffed. “Talk some sense into that drowish cleric. I have use of her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Thalia hammered on a door down the hall. “Viconia,” she called. “I got… something.” When silence met her, she hesitated, holding back before saying, “It’s a job for the wizard. Don’t make me go do it alone with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments later, Viconia appeared. Thalia smiled, but received no greeting in kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pleased, or as pleased as he could be, Edwin led them from the Copper Coronet. With Viconia’s heritage and Edwin’s robes, glares followed them. Thalia recognised several merchants she had seen only minutes ago, now scrutinizing them with narrowed eyes or curled lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been spying you from afar, Viconia,” said Edwin smoothly, “and your frankness, regal bearing, and grace have beguiled me quite profoundly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia turned her eye sideways, analyzing him. She wrinkled her nose. “I’m certain there is a condition to this appraisal. A Thayvian only has one person in their world. Themselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush, dear, nonsense,” he said with a throaty chuckle. “The reputation of my kindred is from untrustworthy sources. Like the drow below, a victim of cruel machinations and falsehoods.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” she said, her voice hardening. “Perhaps, wizard. Unlike yourself, however, I am an outcast from my people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin hesitated but painted an expression on that might’ve been a smile. “Your brethren’s loss is our gain — and a beautiful one at that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flattery will serve you no purpose, male. I will tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> when you may speak to me thusly. I am here today to accompany Thalia. The very moment that is no longer true, I will be spared your prattle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard scowled and pushed on, his ears as bright as his robes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even with the small distance he put between them, passersby latched their evil glares onto Viconia instead of the wizard. A small child spat before fleeing. Thalia grabbed Viconia’s arm to stop her violence. She pushed her off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have done </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>to these filthy humans!” said Viconia venomously. “Why must they stare as though I am the cause of all the planes’ misery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, unlike tieflings, your people have been known well to raid the surface and slaughter villages or—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve no interest in exterminating these vermin,” she spat. “All I wish is to pass in peace. I’d rather their fear than such boldfaced hatred. Surely, they must know the horrors drow inflict upon those who wrong them?” She rolled her neck and bared her teeth. The drowish phrase passed her muttered lips again. “They mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced but kept her thoughts to herself. Alone with Edwin and Viconia, it would already be a long day. Whatever had happened to Viconia whilst Thalia had been captured, the scars ran deep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out with it! I’ve no patience for lies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just, thinking.” She shrugged, but those red eyes burned the words from her. “You care. Like always, you just want to be accepted for who you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Accepted for — Ha!” she barked. “So long as a woman knows she stands above the rest, acceptance is unneeded. What is given may be taken away. Remember that well.” A smile curled her lush lips. “You might’ve done well in the Underdark, were you versed properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assume that’s to be a compliment,” she said dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard led them through a towering pair of obelisks and into a field of the dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia frowned and skipped to catch up to him. “A… graveyard?” she asked, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I seek—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shrill man screamed, stumbling across the tiled grounds. “Help me! Oh, gods, please. It’s Uncle Lester!” He almost collapsed, grappling the obelisk for dear life. “He’s risen up from his grave. Scared the funeral away and now he’s come after me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced to Edwin, who seemed miffed at the interruption, though not surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I put up with that cheap bastard all my life!” the man panted. “You know what he left me in his will? A sweater! Even in death, the damned fiend torments me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Thalia smelled it. The same smell when she had withered Gethras, summoned necrosis. A moldering stench of decomposing human flesh, sweet and rancid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A zombie pulled around the corner, dragging a bum leg. “Cheap sweater?” he hollered. “Well — I’ll have you know that belonged to your grandfather, you ungrateful git!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man lost the rest of his strength and fell. “Oh, no, it’s him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calling me a fiend, will you? Why, I’ve never seen such a cheap funeral in all my life! You sold my clothes and kept the casket closed. You picked the flowers this morn from the swamp. And you gave a drunken priest of Talos a copper to slur some lines of profanity. The outrage! The sheer outrage!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man scuttled backwards and, numb with shock, Thalia stepped sideways. “Gah! How could I have afforded anything, old fool! You left your money to that Calishite whore. Lucky I didn’t drop you in the river.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncle Lester threw his head back. His ear, yellowing and spotted with rot, dangled. “The indignity! The insufferable dignity!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only you would come back from the grave to torment me,” snarled the man. “Get back in your coffin, you worm-ridden devil!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncle Lester backhanded his nephew with a howl. The man flew across the graveyard, smacking face-first into the wall of a mausoleum. He left a bloody smear as he slumped down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncle Lester raised a hand in a cheery wave. Thalia attempted to return it, but Edwin dragged her arm back down. Lester didn’t mind any, as he merely limped back the way he came. At the top of the hill, exasperated funeral-goers waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have a lot of experience with zombies,” said Thalia. “That doesn’t seem normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A quirk of the Weave-soaked land,” said Edwin with savour. “These simpletons ascribe the self-raising undead to the will of the gods. Nay, it is a far greater power. A piece of the Golden Skins of the World Serpent, from the chapter Arcanus Fundare. A fabled Nether Scroll from the ashen sarrukh empire. The very Weave bends in its presence. Somewhere within, there belies an artifact of such power that Irenicus built his base nearer still in search of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it you want me to do?” asked Thalia flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin’s eyes glittered. “Find it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh. And what am I finding?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A sheet of gold, hammered thinner than parchment, and writ with liquid silver.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sighed. “Viconia, you take that side, I’ll take this one. Holler if you find anything from the sarrak empire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sarrukh </span>
  </em>
  <span>empire!” interjected the wizard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if I perhaps find Aunt Gert?” asked Viconia with a raised eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spat. “Ignore them, drow. The scroll’s power is spontaneous and limited without direction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s lip curled as Edwin addressed her, though she nodded to Thalia and ventured through the throng of grave markers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia still didn’t have the faintest idea of what exactly she was supposed to be doing. Now that he had mentioned such an artifact, though, she almost thought she could sense it. A disturbance, something revolting to her higher senses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most Nether scrolls are in the sticky hands of mad isolationist wizards or — Thay help them — accursed busybodies,” said Edwin in a low voice. “Thay has not acquired a new one for decades. Yes, I cannot wait to see Nevron’s face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feeling strengthened. Straining the unnatural sense, she followed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nevron? That another guildmaster for me to murder?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin pulled back, surprised she had heard him. “You know excruciatingly little of the civilized lands, don’t you?” he asked, sneering. “I was under the impression you were raised in a library.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and as you’ve told me, I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>partake of its offerings</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she said, mimicking him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A grim shadow crossed his face. “Well. Nevron is the zulkir of Conjuration, one of the eight lord masters of Thay, and mine own master — for now. See, Thay has no king. Eight zulkirs of the schools of magic to guide the nation, and eleven tharcions to oversee… provinces, you may say. A council of nineteen individual powers, each position a Red Wizard — attainable by any from beggar to noble blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does anything ever get done?” she asked, hoping to find a land of chaos where she could be easily forgotten somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With strict discipline and debate,” said the wizard. “Even my mission, to come to this land, was a unified force of all the zulkirs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I supposed to feel honoured?” Thalia brushed past him, but the trail was lost and she was too frustrated to find it. “All eight of your mighty wizards put aside their differences, to lock me in a dungeon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A dungeon?” He laughed mockingly. “What purpose would that hold?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Experimentation,” she grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thayvian scholars have exhausted that route, by several others already. What the zulkirs seek is a weapon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “And? I’ll be a tool, like a ballista or battering ram. Far better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nay,” said Edwin softly, “a </span>
  <em>
    <span>conqueror</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was such a strange reverence in his voice that she started and turned. He smiled at her, a smile that faded right through her, dripping with avarice. It raised the hairs on her neck — but only because of its honesty. The Red Wizards </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>seek a weapon. Somehow, that was so much worse than a tool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A… what?” she asked, mouth dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A conqueror. The armies of Thay are supported by fiends, and demons, and devils — with our own Red Knights and wizards of war, but… Your power is so young.” He lowered his voice further, eyes dark. “Think, one moment, of what it could be with proper training. With years. With direction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia felt herself slip from her body. She felt like she was on the outside, looking in at the paths of her mind. The taint had a consciousness, a will, a memory even, and it wanted that war. The fields of death. Clash of steel, screams of devils and men, the unrestrained fury of Red Wizards at war. All would fall before her. The need built in her. What she had managed in the planar prison was a whisper next to a hurricane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said hoarsely. “No, I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you rather a dungeon, a new rack, to be a plaything to unworthy deluded cretins?” he asked sharply. “No! No, it would be a waste of such potential. I…” He hesitated and the conviction left him. “I know it is not what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia!” called Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weak, Thalia stumbled after the voice on legs of lead. Uncle Lester’s funeral had cleared away and, in the high sun, the graveyard held no fear. Viconia leaned against the wall of a mausoleum, checking her hand crossbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Locked,” she said. “It was, at least. There is a deep stair and it looks to be abandoned many years — judging by how Lolth’s servants have made it home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia pulled open the doors. Bronze, they scraped the stone with a horrid sound. Viconia’s hand on her shoulder gave her pause and a spell washed over her — calm and cool, not like a wizard’s chaotic magic. Her form softened, blurring at the edges. In the darkness, she would be all but invisible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” she said with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shar protect you,” said Viconia, and her own form blurred as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Edwin realised he wouldn’t get any such blessing, he scowled and followed them at a distance. The stone shed opened into a black nothingness. Edwin summoned a dim ball of magelight. Even pulsing ahead of them, it shone a spotlight — a disturbance in the absolute darkness. Spiders and thick cobwebs threw long dancing shadows. Thalia’s confidence wavered, even with the blessing. Someone had locked this away. Maybe for good reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The catacombs spread, sprawling, as narrow hallways split and zig-zagged. Mosaics filled the walls. Old ones, depicting the last Shadows — the gods of the dead, before Thalia’s time. The Dread Three. Myrkul the Necromancer, master of the undead. Bane the Tyrant of the living. And Bhaal, Lord of Murder. The brothers were surrounded by offerings and wailing subjects. Ghosts. Liches. Assassins. Dark clerics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air grew heavy, almost cloying with the presence of some obscene magic. The Nether Scroll. And whatever guarded it. Thalia wasn’t optimistic. Claws skittered against the stone — deeper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin muttered to himself behind them, shattering the oppressive silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” hissed Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” he said quickly. Too quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me, wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Cowled Wizards monitor the Weave all throughout Athkatla and Amnish cities, but not here,” he said, satisfied. “The power of the Nether Scroll is a dire maelstrom against their pitiful dragging net. My own magics shall be shielded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, then. Put yourself to… work…” Thalia trailed off, tongue thick in her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light ahead played over an open coffin. A mummified skeletal hand dangled over the ledge. It moved. Fingers curled inwards, flexing. It propped itself up, slowly raising a dry husk of a torso and turning to face them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” grumbled the mummy. “Oh, thank Azuth. I thought you were the master.” He sunk back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia vanished into the further darkness, but Thalia stepped forward. Even careful, her sword scraped the sheathe with a grinding ring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s your master?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm? Nevaziah. Keeper of Wisdom. Master of the Shadow Arts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she approached, she spotted the book in the mummy’s hands. The thin leather had almost rotted away and the ink had paled over the years. He turned another blank page, engrossed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shadow Arts,” muttered Edwin, “of course, it would have to be fool necromancers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjoying your book?” asked Thalia gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mummy didn’t seem so rotten. In fact, he was quite dry and well-preserved — even if his eyes were vacant black holes. The remnants of clothes hung off his bony frame, but no bits seemed to droop or rot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” he said enthusiastically. He turned a worn, dog-eared page. “I haven’t read it yet, but I’m supposed to be helping Mai enchant some rings for the Kormish princess. Master Nevaziah will be furious… He will be…” The mummy frowned, the penny spinning — but he shook his head of it before it could fall. “Don’t tell on me, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t dream of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia continued on, more befuddled yet feeling more confident. That was not the only mummy up and about, though several partially conscious figures twitched in their caskets. Others compared empty beakers, or wrote on tablets without ink. Most didn’t recognise them as they passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with them?” she asked Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Idiots forgot to prepare their minds,” he said with a sniff of disdain. “Rudimentary mistake. The ages have turned their brains to an unappetizing putrid slime. We can hope this Nevaziah had not the sense to enact the proper protections on himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corridors took them deeper into the bowels of the earth. The power of the Nether Scroll pressed against Thalia’s chest, filling her lungs. Drowning her. The wizard’s mutterings only grew more excited. He pushed further ahead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Waele faern,” said Viconia darkly. “He’s going to get us both killed. What undead master does he think will await us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His orb of light followed him close and, as he left them in the dark, Viconia lit a dim purple faerie fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One he thinks he can kill,” said Thalia without confidence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” She nodded. “One whom </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> killing is not an option for him. What did he say this scroll will do for him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough of your banal prattle, you senile old lich!” demanded Edwin. His voice rebounded off the rough stone walls. “I wish for that blasted Nether Scroll. It is past your time to profit from its power. Surrender it at once!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s stomach sunk and she chased the corridors blindly. A gravely, confused growl replied and a flicker of awareness passed through the other mummified students. Viconia’s fingers and tongue flashed into a quick prayer. Purple sparks flew at her touch and they crumbled into dust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” screamed Edwin shrilly. “NO! I cannot let you destroy such an invaluable artifact. I will have it if I must destroy you first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last turn dropped them at an overlook. An onyx shrine below them glimmered in firelight, its lectern covered in dust and cobwebs. The shine of gold was unmistakable. The Nether Scroll. The press of its power became oppressive. The lich hovered protectively over it, its eyes milky white and narrowed in hatred. Edwin’s hands twitched at his side as they stood-off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia was right. He was going to get them killed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia hesitated. She felt Viconia’s eyes on her with a question. They could leave Edwin to his inevitable sticky fate — or almost surely join him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lich moved, faster than an eye could follow. Several spells shot off at once. A shining violet globe covered him. A portal opened with a terrible scream and a stream of imps filled the air. Powerful wind guttered the candles and Edwin struggled to remain upright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, jackass, over here!” shouted Thalia. She knocked over a brazier, sending coals skittering down. The bird erupted from thin air and soared to meet the imps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lich turned and growled questioningly. The wind pulled back and Edwin summoned his own protections. He must’ve used several of his own instant-cast tattoos. Small red fey dragons met the imps in the vaulted ceiling. Blue shields surrounded himself — and Thalia. Hers caught the lich’s sizzling green arrow, inches from her nose. The shield cracked, resealing as it pushed the magic bolt out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia cursed fiercely, but the drow took on a new cadence as she cast a spell. A blade of shadowy faerie fire formed in her hand. She dropped behind the short wall, as a series of warrior shades marched against the lich.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia leapt down, wishing for one of those shadow blades for herself. She felt distinctly useless. What would necrosis do to a lich? What help was armor?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A familiar violation poured into her — a strength, a rage. The wizard’s attempts at being </span>
  <em>
    <span>helpful</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The lich’s own forces battled in her mind against it, urging her to flee and cower. Pillars of flame sprouted across the shrine. Scalding heat burned against her shields. Armor warmed on her skin. She couldn’t tell if it was Edwin’s or the lich’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird scratched against the lich’s shield. Its frustration bled into Thalia. The warrior shades struggled against the purple shield. Useless. Edwin’s own magic rebounded off the shield and slammed into the stone, spreading cracks. They needed something more. The lich’s arms and tongue moved at a frantic pace. Magical darts pelted the warriors. The air grew thin, suffocating the fire, drawing breath from their lungs and replacing it with a sour gas. Thalia’s eyes watered. Edwin choked and stammared over his next spell. More portals opened. Griffins struggled now against the fey dragons above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moth-eaten drape had been held back with a cord. Thalia </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the cord unraveled in her grasp. The last warrior shade vanished into mist. The drape’s own weight pulled it open across the lich’s path, blocking its line of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At once, the gas began to let up. Thalia drew a thankful breath and pushed forward. The lich stumbled through the drape, cursing in an unnatural tongue. Its arms met her sword. Useless. The creature didn’t bleed. Didn’t care about the wounds. But it didn’t cast another spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the cambion in the planar prison, the lich’s magical shield whipped away like a tablecloth pulled back. The lich howled wordlessly and gripped Thalia’s sword. She wrenched against its iron grip. It stared at her with merciless eyes as it began a new spell. Black and green smoke poured from the hand on her sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It began to rust. She wrenched back, panting, before her sword could snap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clawed smoking hand stretched out to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird careened downwards and met the smoking hand. A spike of agony slammed into her brain and the bird vanished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three!” shouted Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia whipped around. It took her two moments, but she realised almost too late. She dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way. A portal opened, almost exactly where she had been. A swirling and magnificent fire elemental took her place. The dry husk of the lich moved for a spell, but caught alight like crumbling leaves. Even on fire, the lich pulled a new sphere of protection. Blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It reached a hand into the elemental, who vanished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sudden and impenetrable blackness engulfed the shrine. Not like the dark of night, but something greater. More sinister. It was a living blanket of nothingness, like the black of the planes — serene, watchful, and mysterious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia could only orient herself by a faint purple shimmer. Then, she realised it was the shape of a person. The lich, outlined in faerie fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heard, rather than saw, the bolts of magical light. The lich stumbled. A portal opened, but she couldn’t know what had joined the battle. Magic darts hissed and filled the air like a swarm. She grit her teeth and, hidden in the darkness, tried to find fire. It would be hopeless to join a melee again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Practice,” she said to herself, breathing deep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The headache had become a familiar friend. It was no power that came naturally to the taint and, so far from the Outer Planes, the pain immobilized her before it cooperated. The taint built to a sudden flare and burst outwards. She aimed blindly and collapsed against a wall, gasping in the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The darkness receded as suddenly as it had come. Dim candlelight felt like the sun. The fey dragons circled in the high ceiling, still. Another set of warrior shades saluted before disappearing. Fire and lightning and worse had ripped the frescos into ruins. The lich had been thoroughly pulverized. A pile of ash, rags, and chunks of torn dry flesh smoked gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin cackled. He snatched the golden scroll off the lectern. “Yes. Yes! Just and unjust alike will all fear the overwhelming power of Edwin Odesseiron and his Nether Scroll!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia spat out a mouthful of blood. Her ears rung and she undid her gauntlets to rub at them. “Hope that bit of parchment was worth—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you out of your damned mind, usstan’sargh wael?” demanded Viconia. She stormed down the staircase into the shrine. The wizard, to his credit, didn’t back down as she forced herself into his space. “You picked a fight with a foe you knew you couldn’t win — risking </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> lives for your own personal gain—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shall put it to the best uses of the group,” he said smoothly. He delicately folded the scroll and hid it in a pocket of his robe. “Yes, yes, a little danger. It heats the blood, so the northerners say. And we so have won the battle, with no lasting damage—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia raised her hand to slap him, but stopped a moment before contact. Edwin had flinched. When he realised he wouldn’t be hurt, he scowled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is in our best intentions to have underlings of considerable power,” said Viconia with a cold smirk. “Know, wizard, that sleep comes for humans. And it does not for elves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you intend to keep an eye on me in the bed of night, drow, I will be flattered,” he said, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cursed him in drow, but he answered in her own language and she stormed back off down the twisting corridors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Satisfied, Edwin inspected the rest of the lich’s lair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me know when you proposition her,” said Thalia in a raw rasp. “Seeing her kill you is still on my bucket list.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You performed adequately,” he said over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From him, it was a dear compliment. Didn’t mean she would thank him for the damning praise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fey dragons swirled more tiredly and dropped back into the ruby and gold necklace on the floor. The gem was cracked more deeply. Last he had used the necklace, it had been against Minsc and Dynaheir to entertain his superiors. Judging by the gem, it had perhaps one more use. He brushed it with his thumb, eyes dark with thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were worried she was right,” she said. “That we’d all die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter now,” he said fitfully, tucking it away again. “I’ve no time nor patience to train one as bull-headed as you, but I may prepare a dossier on combat of the Red Knights. Should you understand the numbered callouts, you might avoid bumbling into the Elemental Plane of fire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted. She had complained to him of him summoning on top of her more than once. “How many callouts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sixty-three.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled thinly. “There is only thirty. See, now, doesn’t thirty sound achievable to your tiny mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stood, fighting against the waves of fatigue and aching pain. “I thought you were just counting down, giving me forewarning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If a wizard did </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, every enemy he faced would know his every move. No.” He found a spellbook among the lich’s possessions and turned it with interest. “Coded commands, secret to the Red Wizards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, now, given freely to a western barbarian?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you are to lead, it is best to know how to serve first.” Edwin’s voice was casual, almost distracted. He hmm’d as a choice page fell loose and he added it to his own book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re serious about that,” she said with quiet horror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lump grew in her throat, but her mouth dried and she couldn’t swallow past it. The candles weeped. The spellbook’s pages turned with a crackle. Red robes. Gold and rubies and garnets. Cambions, and the Nine Hells, and liches, and worse horrors of magic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ran. She took off down the dark corridors, past the lich’s confused apprentices and twisting tunnels. The darkness threatened to engulf her. It closed in, shrinking with the walls. Air screamed through her lungs without relief. Where was the next turn? Had she passed it already? The circular room, with the mosaics. She was lost. Hopelessly. She—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A white-blue light shattered the darkness and condensed into an orb no larger than a fist. Thalia panted, hands on her shaking knees. That way, she realised weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cast her mind to look for the bird. He whimpered at the touch, aching and wounded from the lich. Still, he appeared — a weight on her shoulder. He nudged her head with his own. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did I do well? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran her fingers along the glossy feathers. “You did very well,” she said reluctantly. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Any treats for me? You really should sacrifice for such a grand and noble bird. See, tigers and bears and elephants couldn’t have moved so quickly. It is good to have a bird.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia smiled weakly. “I’ll find something at the Coronet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A clink of metal on stone announced Viconia before the light bathed her. She grunted and stabbed again. A particularly fat spider skewed onto her sword, which contained a veritable shishkabob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather get lunch at the inn, if it’s all the same to you,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s mouth twitched. She swung her shortsword and the bodies flew off. “Lolth has disguised more than one minion as a common spider. I — Any could be venomous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fell into step with Thalia as they pushed open the door. Both their eyes lingered on the broken lock as they thought of the wizard, still deep within. They didn’t say a word. With regret, they left it unlocked and turned back onto the streets of Athkatla. Viconia’s expression hardened as they caught hateful glares, but they returned to the inn without incident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia returned to the locked privacy of her room without a backward glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a horrible idea. Reaching out would just earn her a scolding. Thalia swallowed past her doubts. She took her time removing her armor and refreshing. By that time, the barman had brought up a lunch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia took it down the hall, wincing with every step. She knocked on Viconia’s door with a boot. “Hey,” she called. “I — uh — Thought you might be hungry and noticed—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia opened the door. She had taken off her own black leather armor and wore a grey dress, rich with embroidery. Her hair wound in thick silvery white braids. “That isn’t the typical fare.” Her eyes narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said before you miss mushrooms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There isn’t much to miss of the Underdark.” Viconia’s eyes roved over the offering. The typical flatbreads, fluffy and brushed with spiced oil. Brown inn stew. Grilled mushrooms and a mix of fruit and olives. A small bottle of wine — not beer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia opened the door fully and stepped aside. Her room looked much the same as Thalia’s, with a single bed and a small table and chairs by the window. Viconia’s holy icon of Shar rested with an assortment of tiny vials and pastes. Poisons. Hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sat. The sun was high, but heavy drapes blocked its light. She lit a candle. Viconia moved uncertainly in her own room, hovering over the lunch as though it was a spider. She sat and picked at the mushrooms cautiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird squawked in complaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, you fiend,” cursed Thalia. She tossed a berry, which he snapped up. He took the opportunity to sit at the windowsill, picking at a nut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Such an ill-behaved familiar,” said Viconia coldly. “If only we had the time to train him properly. I suspect he’d need a number of beatings—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squawked again, ruffling his feathers and vanishing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia settled back, content.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you’ve plans for after?” asked Thalia. “Once we get Imoen back, I’m sure she could use some peace — on that farm, we once talked about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had intended to tell Viconia of her deal with the wizard. For her, there would be no </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Only Thay. Someone must look after Imoen in her absence, stop her from hunting Thalia down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia had stiffened against the idea of the farm, though. “I tried it,” she said shortly. “Dirt is too common, I have decided. You and the pink rat can do as you please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, then. What do you think of Neverwinter? Or Waterdeep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So many questions,” she said coolly. She set the food aside. “I’ve a question for you instead, and I require its truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia nodded, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you gain from saving me from those townsfolk? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The simpleness of the answer and Viconia’s unwillingness to believe it burned. Thalia shrugged and consulted an olive, but could find no other answer. “You’re my friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia stabbed a finger at the table. “One day, kivvil, this revolting trust of yours will get us all killed. I cannot believe there is anything between your ears at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell Edwin that,” she said dryly. “He’s always looking for new insults.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She threw herself back into her chair. “I cannot believe your idiocy, this insipid lack of distrust. You took it granted that I would follow you, obey you. Despite being a drow, known for our society’s duplicity.” Her eyes sharpened and a muscle hardened in her jaw. “This world is not a kindly place filled with rainbows and kittens. If you do not keep yourself open to the possibility of betrayal, you will die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia reached for the stew and dug in. “Not dead yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet!” She pursed her lips. “Yet you shall. Your belief leaves you vulnerable, defenceless as a newborn babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To betrayal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shook her head. “I don’t anticipate betrayal from any of us — least of all you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>demanded Viconia, drawing the word out. “What possesses you to think my allegiance is so steadfast? I keep secrets from you, as a servant of Shar. Death comes in many forms, the most common of which is a dagger in the spine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re my friend,” said Thalia again, relishing the look of horror on her face with a certain sadness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you incapable of answering my questions with truth or without reverting to this circular fallacy?” Viconia reached for the wine but didn’t pour. “I feel—” she said suddenly. She bit her lip bloodless. “I feel as if I owe you, now. Gratitude might be considered a worthy trait on this surface, but in the Underdark it leads only to death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one’s listening. You can thank me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia laughed coldly and poured herself a drink. “Wael, if I had felt gratitude you’d have known it. You are not owed gratitude but my life — again, by virtue of your customs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want it,” said Thalia gently. “I don’t want that hanging over us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spilled the wine and stood. “Damn you — and your phla’ta customs. Why do I even try, when my ever-companion is rejection!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t reject you,” she said, calm and steadfast. She continued to eat. “I’ll be here for you, even when you don’t want it. I feel a… fondness towards you and I don’t want to see you hurt or killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia turned back,  wounded in her anger. “If you are attempting to gain access to my flesh with </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, vith’rell, you are mistaken. Lay a hand upon my skin and you will find it removed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed. “I’m attempting no such thing. I know friendship is an unfamiliar concept and I am not Imoen, but… all I desire is your company and companionship, in exchange for my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia sat again, tentative. “Do you, perhaps, think I would gladly lay down my life for you?” she asked, uncertain of her own answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did,” said Thalia bluntly. “Today. Perhaps not gladly, but when I wouldn’t leave the wizard to his fate, you wouldn’t leave me to mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia furrowed her brow. “Yes. Yes, I suppose I did.” She sipped the wine and found it to her taste. “That could’ve been a mistake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nibbled on another mushroom, lost. “Ussta jiv’undas zhah dosst jiv’undas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s fingers gripped the table. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“My pain is your pain.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That your sentiment, yes? Part of a binding oath and threat from a house mother to a subservient male, yet, you seem eager to take such a position beneath you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia scrambled for words, but found none others. Thalia could only repeat it back in drow, best she could. They corrected her pronunciation and inflection and, eyes heavy and dark, Viconia moved on to other vocabulary. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Unseeing Eye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Copper Coronet rarely emptied. Thalia and the rest weren’t the only group staying there, not to mention the lonesome scoundrels and drunkards. Well past dinner, music and laughter and brawls continued. Thalia was the last to retire, as ever. She avoided seeking refuge from her nightmares in drink, but she postponed them as long as she could. The din quieted, eventually, and those others ventured to bed or home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen avoided her, to such lengths that he hadn’t even made an appearance at dinner. Jaheira had been curiously mum on the Harpers. All she would say was that they hadn’t procured a job. Figures. Yoshimo shook down a debtor. Common muscle work. For thirteen gold. Typically, Thalia would accept gold as gold. When they needed thousands, it was a drop in the sea and bought only dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It left her with Haer’Dalis. The tiefling, while grim and peculiar, wasn’t morose. Neither could she say he was fine company. His knowledge of plays, songs, and poetry was immense, but prattling. Minutes wove to hours. The Copper Coronet began to empty, and Haer’Dalis lapsed into a brooding quiet alongside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive this sparrow’s stares, my raven,” he said well into the night, “but there is something of you, something I cannot place. Indulge me a moment, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia set aside her empty mug. None were close enough to hear his soft words, nor see the interest in his silvery eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have you been able to sense it?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The moment we met,” he said with a smile. He raised a delicate hand and stroked the air between them. “An aura hangs over you, swirling in the wisps and shadows with clawed fingers. Mortal you may appear. Sorceress you may be. But something lurks in your depths, something with glossy feathers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t find it so interesting,” she said, knocking her legs onto the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis laughed. “No answer you provide could ever turn me astray. I promise, you dangle me on the lines of suspense and intrigue. Share your dark secret!” He scooted his chair closer, every inch quivering with anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll find out.” She grunted and looked away. “I’m a child of Bhaal, the late Lord of Murder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Delightful!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared. She remembered the reactions of Jaheira, Edwin, Yoshimo, Viconia, Imoen, Anomen — confusion, cautious interest and fear, disbelief, greed, shock, horror, rage. Her own wordless fear warring with desire.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“D-Delightful?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis’ smile, never cheerful, only grew more somber. “Ah, my timid raven, do you truly not know your own worth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not touch her. A graceful hand outlined the edge of her face, hovering over her skin. It sent shivers down her spine. Thalia was more frightened by his mystery than Edwin and all his earnest threats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means nothing to me,” she insisted. “It’s not who I am. I’m Thalia, not some twisted vessel for a dead god’s spirit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” he whispered, “but it cannot mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You are half-deity, after all. Can you speak honest and say you are no different to other mortals? That you are mortal at all? The powers you bear, the fire in your soul — traits inherited from your father, no doubt, along with certain other, less pleasant attributes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he would acknowledge it wasn’t all so enjoyable. Though he embraced it eagerly, his thoughts were not quite so alien from her own. They were facts, not fears, assumptions, and glories of dark power. It assuaged some of her own fear, both of Bhaal and of Haer’Dalis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why ask me now? If you knew something was wrong—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrong?” He frowned, perplexed. “You are what you are. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> is not considered when the fates deal our cards. Perhaps my curiosity was a bit abrupt, but you are a hard woman to read. Every piece I glean, I feel I’ve read but only the first letter on the first page of a random book in your library.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, mouth dry. “I think I prefer it that way, Haer’Dalis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, I do understand your hesitation. I would feel the same if pressed about my heritage.” He stood fluidly and drained the dregs of his wine glass. “Since you’ve indulged me, I owe you a tale of myself, if you would entertain this bard — and the soul who wears this face. But not tonight. It is already too late. And…” He cocked his head. “And I am not the only one seeking your thoughts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen appeared at the balcony with a face like death. Slow and deliberate, he made his way down the stairs. He walked like a man in a nightmare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia slid a hand down her face. “Keep this to yourself,” she said to Haer’Dalis. “Anomen hasn’t taken it well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis nodded and slid quickly up the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever Anomen had spent the day or night doing, it hadn’t been sleeping. Or bathing. She had never seen him with stubble around his goatee. An odd grey cast hung over him, bowing his proud shoulders. He refused to sit, bracing himself over a chair. “Evening,” he said stiffly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Technically, it’s morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, distracted. “I… I’ve been alerted of a job we might take. It would more than put us over our goals, with remainder for supplies and preparations for the inevitable siege.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed. “If — If you don’t want us to take it, we won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asked. His mouth slipped open and he stared as though she had smacked him. “Imoen — Your sister, we could still be tendays away at this pace. By your reckoning, it has been three months since you surfaced!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she said quietly. “How we get there is as important as getting there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t believe that,” he said, but he didn’t sound quite so certain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but if I do it, maybe the believing doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen sat slowly. He looked at her with new eyes, kinder than the ones he had given her lately. “Action, rather than heart or word, is what remains of us. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on, then. Get some sleep. I’ll try to, as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” He reached out a hand to stop her. “No, we shall take this. You were right, but if you are willing to fight your nature, I should be willing to put aside my pride for a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only a moment?” Thalia smiled and he returned it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath. “The Order seeks aide to look into a cult of some notoriety. They have recruits pluck out their eyes. Some guilds have gotten uppity about it, thinking to refute rule of the temples, the Council, or the Cowled Wizards. The Order thinks a rebellion might be on our hands should this cult not be disposed of. Not to mention a number of young members of the Order have been seduced by it and vanished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t trust it,” said Thalia honestly. “Why wouldn’t you want us to look into it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen grimaced. “Sir Keldorn sought me out for this. He is a high-ranking paladin in the Order and a great man,” he said through gritted teeth. “He would accompany us on this. Ostensibly, as a paladin on command, but he would come to watch over me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he’s not much fond of you,” she summarized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He knew me as a child and, in his eyes, I’ve never grown,” he said bitterly. “He forgets that I am not </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> squire. Surely, he will also forget that Sir Ryan Trawl permitted me absence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can stay behind, if you wish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And have him think me a coward?” snapped Anomen. “No, we shall do this all together.” He hesitated. “If I may, perhaps it be best to leave the Red Wizard, drow, and tiefling behind. They are not the fairest of heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can discuss this on the morn,” said Thalia, stifling a yawn. “Both of us need rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen caught her arm as she made her way past. “My lady, I have treated you most unkind of late,” he said with difficulty. “I feel terrible about my burst of temper the other day. Would you allow me the opportunity to apologize?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The earnesty took her off-guard and Thalia nodded. His hand slipped off her and she sat again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” said Anomen, speaking to the table. “Sometimes, my zeal for justice and valor can become…” He shook his head. “There is an anger in my heart I cannot seem to control—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she said quietly. “Probably better than you understand. All you need know about me is that whatever fear, hatred, or revulsion you feel for this—” she tapped at her heart “—you are not the one living with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even so, I do apologize. Whatever evil fate has leashed you to, you’ve a good heart.” He glanced up hopelessly. “When I spoke of fighting against evil, I became angry but it was not at you. It was more an anger at myself and my own inability to… to be as good as I might wish.” He sunk back in his chair. “Sir Keldorn has always been right, about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone feels anger and hate sometimes,” said Thalia. She rose an eyebrow. “Even paladins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen shook his head. “Forgive me, but I don’t think that’s true. Paladins of the Order speak only of contentment… and I’ve never felt like that. I wish to use up this wretchedness inside me, but each time I strike, it grows and grows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed and opened and shut her mouth. She couldn’t find a single word to put in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apologies again, my lady,” he said in a rush, “I’ve over-extended my own—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to do about it either,” said Thalia hollowly. “But I do know about feeling possessed by anger, driven by a lust for violence and fearing turning it to good ends isn’t enough.” She realised how it sounded and flushed. “Sorry, the comparison to a Bhaalspawn isn’t flattering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The comparison to you is,” said Anomen in an unyielding voice. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia slept well that night, for the first time in months. Years. Even if only for a few hours. The deep, dreamless sleep left her refreshed and, as she armed herself, she reflected on just how close they were. Imoen’s torment was almost at an end. Jaheira, surely, would grasp the opportunity to work for the Order. Yoshimo would be relieved at having proper paying work. Edwin and Viconia both knew when to make themselves scarce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t expected Anomen’s Sir Keldorn to be waiting in the Copper Coronet at dawn. The paladin stuck out like a sore thumb. His plate was painted a lilac, with Torm’s white hand on his chest. Experience greyed his black hair, but he looked more solid than most warriors half his age.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shared breakfast with Haer’Dalis. The two laughed over ale. Thalia wasn’t certain she had heard Haer’Dalis laugh like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keldorn, a faithful hound. How is it one comes to be a paladin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn shrugged. “I must say, it was only practical for me. My mother was of high noble birth, my father a distinguished cleric. Becoming one of his pages lacked the appeal of a holy warrior.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, dear, the old codger’s tale be true, then?” Haer’Dalis grinned and set his drink down. “What is bred in the bone shall out in the flesh. You charge ahead, of valor born, the best of parental blood comingled within you, the very destinies made true by your every righteous act! Alas, where be inkwell and papyrus when I need it most?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a show of inspecting his sleeve and under their plates. Keldorn chuckled heartily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ho, son, your poetry enobles me far beyond my worth. I am a simple man and, by simple decisions, make my way. Write of me if you must, but by which I would wish to be remembered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis’ eyes sparkled. “Aye, but where go the poetry, then, in those histories, good knight? A question, then, my hound, do good knights ever find cause to sing bawdy songs and tell ribald tales about campfires?” he asked goodnaturedly. “Is dourness an inarguable tenant of your Order?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn shook his head. “Countless books within our holy libraries have been scribbled upon by bored and dreamy scribes. Petty blasphemies. As a younger man, I used to sing a little song to make the brothers laugh.” He frowned and drank. “How did it go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t about to sing now, are you?” asked Haer’Dalis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His infernal chainmail had been polished bright, the iridescent hues almost rainbow-like. Nothing changed of his body. Only how his features arranged themselves, how he sat, smiled, and spoke. He appeared a fey adventurer, rather than the scoundrel Thalia had met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn began to sing in a deep lilting voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I knew a girl from a distant world across the planar deep,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And to her place to see her face across the void, I’d creep.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Through time… Through…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He groaned. “Oh, it’s been so long I’m surprised I remember that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis picked up the tune, his voice rounder and sweeter. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Though time went by and long I tried</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To satisfy my lusts,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No matter where I touched, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>’Twas not enough</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To please my succubus.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He stabbed a piece a sausage with a spear. “Was that it? It gets far bawdier. I’m shocked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Keldorn laughed heartily. “However did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m no stranger to theological readings myself.” An impishness crossed his face. “Found it in the margins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, dear me, I hope I didn’t write that one down for posterity. Be proud, Haer’Dalis, you’ve made an old knight blush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be proud when this foul evil is vanquished,” said Haer’Dalis blithely. He turned to Thalia with a blinding smile. “Ah, kind hound, this is our leader. Thalia the…” His hand searched for a word. “Stoic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia was unsure how to greet a knight, but she offered a hand. “I prefer to let others do the talking,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn grasped it, scalloped steel against her own. “It is an honour. I’ve heard of your deeds in Baldur’s Gate. I worried about what sorts young Anomen might fall amongst on his quests.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Northerners, I’m afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, wrinkles warming his face. “The greatest sin of your people is inventing dried fish jerky. Somehow, I shall endeavour to forgive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia thought of Bhaal’s taint, but smiled stiffly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira and Yoshimo came down soon enough. Keldorn filled them in on this so-called Unseeing Eye cult. Supposedly, they based themselves in the sewers beneath the Temple District, but none had managed to find their leader.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sewers again,” said Yoshimo with a chuckle. “Brave samurai, do not fear — save for our noses. Thalia, I will get you a coffee to bulwark against the scent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She handed over her empty cup, but couldn’t say why she watched him carefully. Yoshimo approached the bar, exchanged bright words with the barman, and returned with the drink. And a honeyfinger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eat something, lest we must scrape you from the streets by noon,” he insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though long and slim, it was nothing like the honeyfingers Thalia knew. The dough was crisp and shattered at a bite, oozing sticky honey spiced with cinnamon and coriander. Too sweet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye, the sewers are no friend to any but the nefarious,” said Keldorn apologetically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira raised her hand. “It is no matter. Still, I am a Harper, even if I am not working by them right now, and our aid will not be cheap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart is prepared to pay seven thousand gold. Well worth your trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well worth,” agreed Jaheira. “We shall accompany you, once the rest of our party—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only Anomen,” said Thalia in a low voice. “Edwin and Viconia will remain here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira’s face betrayed her hope that Edwin might be disposed of, though it vanished as she understood. “Indeed. We’ll wait for Anomen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen came along soon enough, though it seemed sleep had not visited him. A razor had, though. His armor shone brighter than ever and he forced a smile. “Morning, Sir Keldorn. I trust we are ready to begin. You’ve met… the rest.” His eyes lingered on Haer’Dalis a moment too long and he scowled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn stood and laid a calm hand on Anomen’s shoulder. “This expedition will be of the greatest importance. So long as the battle remains in the city, folk will look to you and I as we represent the Order — not amongst armies, but as individuals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meaning?” he asked coolly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With the blessing of Torm, your leader, and yourself, I would take charge of this quest — to ensure we continue on a righteous path.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen glared at the hand on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The squire deserves credit,” said Haer’Dalis. “He keeps us rugged sellswords on the righteous path all by himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve no need of your defence, horned bastard,” said Anomen hotly. Red crept up his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis’ amused smile behind Keldorn’s back spoke volumes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now,” said Keldorn, raising a finger, “this is verily what I meant. Noble blood gets one only so far. Noble bearing—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noble </span>
  <em>
    <span>actions</span>
  </em>
  <span> will cut this cult to size and it appears I have a sword, too.” Anomen gritted his teeth and gathered himself. “I mean, it would be an honour to serve under you, Sir Keldorn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all have swords, noble hounds,” said Haer’Dalis. Light flashed on the two at his back. “Some, more than others. Same well as honour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, there is no need to aggravate a man’s weakness,” said Keldorn sternly. “We all have them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Weakness—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing will be gained by sparring with words,” said Jaheira, standing. “Every moment gives the cult more time to prepare and gather strength. We will go as a team, under no orders but what we make for ourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen and Keldorn blinked, surprised at the lack of direction. Thalia was grateful for the cutting end to the posturing. She slipped among the group. As always, what Jaheira said and what Jaheira did were rather at odds. Jaheira led the party from the Copper Coronet, taking directions from Keldorn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They passed a new display at the edge of the slums. A hastily built stage, where chained prisoners awaited before a crowd. Not for a headsman or the noose, but a buyer. Thalia’s eyes lingered dark on the chains. Rough iron. Even in Amn, engraved with spell runes. Her heart skipped a few beats. Her throat and wrists tingled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, market day!” said Yoshimo brightly to Thalia. “Athkatla, the center of commerce in all its flavours. I do wonder if we might sell Jaheira.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis’ cheerful mask fell to something more thoughtful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaheira is a bold and brave woman, thief,” said Anomen curtly. “And I’ll not have you befoul her with what you call wit — what the rest of us call pollution of the air.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo was undeterred. “Anomen, my friend, their words are in the past. Look to the future destruction of the evil cult or, instead, a fonder past. Tell me of the hill giants again, those ones in Tradesmeet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen grumbled but obliged and his mood improved dramatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted, struggling to tear her eyes from the suffering. She had seen slaves before — people kidnapped by monsters both beast and man. Even a tiefling, once, enslaved under the bright colours and joy of a carnival. Yet, the rough chains had done their job on this group. Their eyes knew no hope. Only tears showed they still feared their current lot. Many bore scars under their rags. Thalia’s own itched in response. Her chest, her arms, her back. A sharp line down the right side of her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mirrors are troubling things when met outside polished silver, hmm?” said Haer’Dalis in a soft voice. She didn’t answer, and he deigned to continue. “The prison with Miss Raelis was not the first time a collar has graced this sparrow’s neck. ’Twas her who saved him the first time, a strippling enslaved to a merchant caravan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not be sorry, my raven. Simply understand. These are facts. History long past, yet it touches me still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By his tone, she knew he meant more he wouldn’t say, but she couldn’t figure it out. Haer’Dalis returned to the character he had shown Keldorn and they left the slums and slaves behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Temple Distract was resplendent with stained glass. Three vast structures hung at the central canals. The white and gold hung the watchful hand of Helm, which Anomen and Keldorn both made holy symbols of as they passed by. A lightning rod capped the temple of Talos the Stormlord; iron grey and imposing. The third’s brass doors had been polished to a gleaming gold, the sunrays too bright to look at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have any layabouts from the Copper Coronet come into new money of late?” asked Keldorn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We haven’t paid much attention to the other patrons, I’m afraid,” said Jaheira. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems ludacris, I know, but I swear by my honour the Dawnbringers of Lathander have been robbed. A gold statuette of the Morninglord himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s eyes widened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps the Shadow Thieves,” offered Yoshimo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” said Keldorn. “Only a true evil could’ve stolen from the house of such a glorious god.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps a drow,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira rolled her eyes and groaned, but Keldorn interpreted it rather differently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” he said, chuckling. “Perhaps a drow. Or even a mindflayer. Such monsters are far from Athkatla, my lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen grinned. “Yes, sir, they are.” Then, he seemed to understand Jaheira’s reaction and turned back to Thalia. “A</span>
  <em>
    <span> drow?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shadow Thieves,” she said with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen blanched and made a different holy symbol towards Lathander’s temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pair of Order knights guarded the sewer entrance at the base of the canal. They saluted Keldorn and opened the grate with a creak. Stinking fumes poured out. So thick in the throat, she almost feared a wizard had cast the clouds. Jaheira called upon a small sun, which Keldorn regarded with suspicion before she told him of her childhood in a druid grove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, do these lost Order recruits know what sacrifices our noses make?” asked Yoshimo as they ventured deeper into the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They likely care not,” said Anomen darkly. “Most are so arrogant and preoccupied with their family names—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful about throwing stones from your glass house,” said Keldorn without a backward glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen bared his teeth at the knight’s back. “Pardon, sir, but I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> most preoccupied with my family name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some are preoccupied with bringing pride. Others are preoccupied with staying wrath — or shame.” He sighed. “Young man, it seems you’ve been too long away from the fold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what you’re about, sir.” Anomen pushed forward to take the lead, shield braced in hand. “Let me worry about training and you may worry of your own affairs — and your own family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Best you listen to the wisdom of those before you, before you find yourself remedying acts best avoided at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shall take what path I deem appropriate, Sir Keldorn,” said Anomen testily. “I have not bothered you, so it seems rude you find time to bother me. Come now, before these blasted recruits manage to get themselves killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn shook his head, but followed. The river of sewage deepended, their own pathways growing threateningly slippery. It rushed over a ledge somewhere near. Beyond the light, all was darkness. Thalia didn’t trust the quiet. They were sitting ducks on the narrow pathways. Should a fight break out, the quarters would be too tight. Perhaps fearing the same thing, Haer’Dalis jumped gracefully to the other path. Yoshimo followed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen flinched and raised his shield. An arrow </span>
  <em>
    <span>plinked</span>
  </em>
  <span> off. “For the Order!” he shouted, drawing his sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira waved her hands. The sunlight orb’s light dimmed as it stretched, casting a faint light over the low hall. The thick river parted and thinned to a shallow lake. It was only kobolds. They must’ve lived and scavenged in their rags.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen stammered and Thalia could almost hear his face burning. He led the charge, rather less enthusiastically, and the skirmish finished without incident. A lingering kobold chirped fearfully and scampered down a dark hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stood before the half dozen tunnels beside Jaheira and Keldorn. They all thought the same thing. The sewers were too expansive. It would take hours, days to prowl through each option. And, even then, the cult could be hiding under a rock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dear gloryhound, you struck a dashingly heroic figure just there, at the helm of the darkness,” said Haer’Dalis, loud against the sudden quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen strode through the muck, sword still drawn. “Mock me again—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mock you?” he asked, eyes wide. “I merely wanted to admire your combat style. In fact, I wish to emulate it, immortalize it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He  stood up straighter. “Truly? Well, then.” He cast a glance to Keldorn and raised his voice. “Ask away and I shall do my best to answer. At a later time, we will have the peace and light that I may instruct you. Perhaps my techniques shall save your skin in combat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Combat? Oh, you misunderstand. I would use your style on the stage. It is far too florid and grandiose for effective use in battle.” Hand empty, Haer’Dalis imitated it against thin air. “All that hacking and slashing. Hmm. Would you consider your overblown thrusts and stabs are the result of an overblown ego?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, you snake—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis cried out in pain. Thalia turned and feared the worst, but a distance still separated him and Anomen. Cursing, Haer’Dalis leaned against the brick wall. An arrow protruded from his shoulder. A second bit into the masonry. Anomen scoured the darkness. Jaheira’s light joined him and illuminated a pair of archers, who fled back down the corridor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen and Keldorn gave eager chase, Yoshimo close behind. Jaheira’s light hesitated as it reached the limit of her reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t leave them in the dark,” said Thalia. “Go. I’ll deal with him. We’ll find you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird appeared, dusky fire-red eyes in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira threw it an anxious look. “Don’t let the paladin see that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she left, Thalia had the bizarre sense of being two places at once. She saw through the bird’s eyes, felt the stinking wind under wings. He followed Jaheira to the battle, eager to help. To rend out tiny squishy eyes and tear flesh. She warned him to stay back and out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let there be light,” said Haer’Dalis, and a flame no larger than a candle burned with an unreasonable brightness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she saw Haer’Dalis, the odd grey colour that tinged his rich tanned skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t expect one arrow to lay you out,” she said. As she neared, she realised the archer had been quite skilled — or quite lucky. It burrowed deep into his collar, where the chainmail ended and only the leather protected.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you to deal with me?” asked Haer’Dalis with a twisted smile. “Am I to look out over yon meadow of pleasant wildflowers whilst my raven raises the cleaver—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia wrenched out the arrow to shut him up. He hissed in pain and the blood flowed faster. She pressed her hand to the wound and shut her eyes. Practice. The taint was only too easy to find now. Enduring it as she tried to corral it was the hardest. The pain became a fog, impossible to think through. A throbbing ache spread from the icy knife in her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis’ whispered exclamations told her it had worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia released the taint and it snapped away from her with relief. She wiped her nose reflexively, but there was no blood. Close thing. But progress, nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his shoulder out, inspecting it, and regarded her with something akin to wonder. “Thank you, my raven,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaheira could’ve done that. Anomen, too,” she said defensively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The raw tumult of nature. Helm’s guarding hand. Yet it was Death’s own touch what pushed me from her embrace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia scowled. “Don’t be so melodramatic. You were in risk of a month’s bedrest, not death. Now, come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird avoided the fight and waited, shifting from foot to foot. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This plane is revolting, mistress. Not like the last one at all. The one with the stones and the trolls’ castle — that was nice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes and retraced the bird’s path. Down this corridor, across the next. A door? Stairs? Reluctantly, she felt forced to reply. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s all the same plane. We haven’t gone anywhere else</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The bird grumbled, disappointed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Can</span>
  <em>
    <span> we go somewhere else?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. Why?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because. Now, shut up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, mistress.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The fight had not yet finished. The archers were, in fact, a patrol, and had led them into a lower sanctum. Reenforcements met them, heavily armored. The bird liked Anomen best — all that hack and slash and spray of blood arcing majestically through the air. The fight continued over a pair of unsteady bridges, only inches above a particularly rapid river of sewage. They swayed to the rhythm of the battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis pulled her back. “Hold,” he said with a small smile. “This won’t go well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira fought alongside Anomen, moving in tandem. Her quarterstaff beat back the guard’s blade and Anomen struck deep. Blood squirted from the viser. As the guard fell, his weight shook the bridge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira screamed as the bridge swayed further — too far. She careened off the side, along with the last guard. Anomen dove backwards for solid ground. Yoshimo released another arrow and the sewage stained red as the guard cried out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaheira!” shouted Keldorn, as he beat back the guard on the second bridge with a massive claymore. “Are you quite alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira accepted Anomen’s hand and she crawled onto the ledge. From head to toe, a clotted sludge covered her like mud. “My injuries sting,” she said, “but it is most my pride that hurts.” She cast a spell and, with a ripple, the sewage turned to pure water and left her soaked — but clean. “Thalia. Good,” she said breathlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia felt rather than saw the bird vanish from his dark corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn fixed Haer’Dalis with a kind look. “How do you fare, with your wound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent. Not an ounce of pain. See, Thalia has this most marvelous healing charm. I know, I am but a simple bard and its charge this day would’ve best been used on a true frontline warrior—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense!” said Keldorn at once. “Son, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> have our roles to play in the world and fields of battle and yours is no less important than mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t have said it better myself, dear hound,” said Haer’Dalis cheerfully, against Anomen’s hateful look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dying guard floundered against the terrible current and dragged himself against the ledge. Yoshimo raised his katana, but Keldorn stayed his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He might have something to offer first,” he said calmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grimace, Yoshimo pulled the guard up. Jaheira cast her spell again and the liquid transformed to clear water, leaving the young man in dented mismatched armor. An arrow protruded from his gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t suppose that works on the whole of the sewers?” asked Yoshimo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira was about to answer when the guard choked and struggled. Yoshimo had him pinned, but removed his helm to better let him speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no eyes. Thick wounds and white scar tissue wound the sockets, but nothing remained. Not even an eyelid. He coughed blood, hand gripping the arrow. He had moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who did this to you?” asked Jaheira softly. “Your eyes…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gave them,” he said through bloody gritted teeth. “To the Unseeing Eye! Forgive me, mighty one. Talos was but a false god — I sorrow I ever worshipped him. You… You’ve given so much. Asked for nothing in return. My mother… All I wanted was her safe. Cared for. False gods and their temples cast us aside. His mercy is…” His lip trembled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is the Unseeing Eye?” asked Yoshimo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… beautiful. Worship him.” His hand slackened as he faded. “Such a small price to pay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how Yoshimo cajoled him, the guard spoke no more. He was dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glorious battle, I take it?” asked Thalia, standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” said Keldorn solidly, missing her irony. “Each coward and fanatic we destroy is one more that shall leave the surface at peace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No quarter ever given or deserved, right, paladin?” asked Jaheira with a taint of bitterness as they proceeded across the bridges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn frowned. “Am I to gather you have sympathy for our enemies? These were not the Order’s mislaid recruits — nor any commoners, but mercenaries. Soul and sword sold for coin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not in the least, though I could never shake the hope that they are not all irredeemable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In theory, perhaps.” He sighed. “Life, as I’ve lived it, tells a different tale. The desperate are most often led to avoid the righteous path to achieve noble ends — and they never find it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you are wrong,” said Jaheira wistfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you said, sir hound, we’ve all our roles to play,” said Haer’Dalis. He reconsidered his shoulder and took his swords in hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the bridges, a pair of doors sealed away most of the stench. Lit by candles, cleaned and refreshed, the corridor might’ve even be considered homey as it descended deeper. Aside from the paintings of staring eyes. Dozens, each meticulously illustrated. Every sort of eye covered the walls haphazardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are in the right place,” said Yoshimo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia frowned, inspecting the walls closer. Athkatla above was largely built of stucco. The slums had worn away to expose the wooden skeletons. Yet, even the sewers before had been of a cement. These new walls were bricks. Roughened, but not made hastily. Not the red clay she knew either. Mud, perhaps. And older. Hidden from the elements, something had still worn them under the disturbing paint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These are ruins,” she said, surprised. “Is Athkatla built on a razed city?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baldur’s Gate is,” said Jaheira as Keldorn stiffened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Netherese Empire collapsed with internal strife, centuries ago,” he said reluctantly. “I know nothing of what stood here before Athkatla, but there is no need to accuse my ancestors—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There… </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> something below,” said a different voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A half dozen swords pointed its direction. Thalia’s heart caught in her throat as the sunlight flared. It revealed a timid older man, shrinking against a side passage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More with no eyes,” cursed Anomen. “Hop on my sword, slave of this false god.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” he cried. He held his empty hands up in surrender. “I… My followers and I worship the Unseeing Eye no longer. I am Sassar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, get out of this accursed place,” said Jaheira. “Hide, and when we come back this way we will lead you to the light above.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t destroy him,” said Sassar. His face twisted. “Once I discovered the true depth of his evil, I escaped and hid with the others who left the cult. The Eye and his slaves won’t venture down here, for fear of what they cannot see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We met some others,” said Yoshimo. “Ones lacking in the optical department — yet, two were archers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sassar winced. “Yes. The Eye grants — granted us powers to see and feel the world. Since I left, I’ve lost the senses. It’ll be alright, though.” His smile trembled. “It’ll be alright, if you can stop it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn stepped forward threateningly, the steel of his boot clinking against the stonework. Sassar shook and he recoiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Order has had several young promising recruits seduced away,” said Keldorn coldly. “The only description I’ve heard has been of a weasley old man with a scar, from lip to collarbone. Let me introduce myself. Keldorn Firecam, Knight-Inquisitor of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> begged Sassar. His knees gave out and he collapsed. “Please, sir, have mercy! I confess! I was a high priest of the One God, but no longer. Please, no longer. I’ve led as many to the One God as I have to this cursed freedom — many of them the recruits of Lathander and Helm. Please! You know not his power, what he means for this world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell us,” said Jaheira, shooting Keldorn a sharp eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An artifact,” said Sassar in a hush. “An artifact of terrible destructive power, such that the gods secreted it away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would it happen to be a Nether Scroll?” asked Thalia tiredly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, fine grey hairs waving. “No, no. Far worse. A rod, snapped clean in two. The Eye… he is a beholder, blinded in the Underdark, but he found a piece of it in the most foul Under. If he were to take the second half, nothing and no one would be safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why hasn’t he simply seized it?” asked Anomen impatiently. “He has enough followers, surely, to find it in this hovel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The gods have cursed it, fearing his plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn grimaced, shaking his head, until he spotted the look on Jaheira’s face. “You can’t be considering listening to this man — a </span>
  <em>
    <span>servant</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the very evil we’ve come to destroy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see a man strayed from the righteous path, who seeks to walk it again,” said Jaheira with an ironic smile. “Who are you to deny him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a wise woman, druid, but you do not understand Torm or his teachings. My duty is to my missing recruits — rescue or vengeance. We can do nothing from the confines of a trap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the other hand, what chance do we have against a beholder alone?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn sighed. “If it is blinded, the greater of its powers are destroyed. Still, it could be a mighty spellcaster. This deep, we can’t rely on the Cowled Wizards for support.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What sort of artifact?” asked Yoshimo with interest. “A rod, you say? But, a wand? A quarterstaff? A particularly aggressive stick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t seen it,” said Sassar. He shrugged hopelessly. “The One’s half… I know where it is and I can tell you later. The patron of my followers and I, he’s a cleric of great power and guards it deep in the lower reaches. I’ve met him but once. He promised us help would come one day — if only we had faith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your faith has been answered,” said Jaheira in a voice that brokered no argument. “We shall venture into these reaches, retrieve the rod, and destroy the beholder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn argued bitterly, refusing to go along until he could see at least some of the former recruits, now refugees from the Eye. Yoshimo wrung smiles from them with a bawdy joke. Satisfied, Keldorn nodded his assent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia could not voice her fears, but neither could she shake them. Sassar was a vessel. First for the Unseeing Eye, now for this cleric below. A cleric of immense power. Not of Helm, or else he would’ve warned of the paladin and Anomen. And he knew help would come, one to bear half of a rod of great destruction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One not unlike a Bhaalspawn.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Faded Glory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The corridors grew danker and darker as they continued down. At first, they passed the odd eyeless followers of Sassar, but soon they were left alone. The halls narrowed, chaffing broad shoulders. Thalia could almost feel the almighty press of the city above. Tons and tons of rock and sewage and buildings. Thousands of people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And a beholder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ancient razed city showed in its ruins. Pillars and statues of strange gods, almost perfectly preserved. Shadows and dust marked where wood had once stood. Several stone buildings remained as husks, roofs open to the rocky sky. This part of the city had been an extensive complex. Religious, judging by the icons left behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never heard of such a thing beneath the city,” said Keldorn in wonder. “Surely, this would be of historical interest to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch your step!” Yoshimo grabbed him and pulled him back. The steps up to a pavilion had worn — all but one. Yoshimo wedged a dagger underneath and lifted the stone to expose the magical dweomer. It still hummed after all these years. He pitched it over the chasm, chuckling. “Historical interest, yes, but whatever scholars who want this will need to hire some intrepid adventurers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Many thanks, Yoshimo,” said Keldorn gravely. “Perhaps, when we bring this to the surface, we will need your aid again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pavilion had lost its back half to the chasm that split the ground. A wide flat stone rested on the other side, but it would’ve weighed far too much to move. And the chasm was too wide to jump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can’t be a dead end,” scoffed Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps the cleric and his rod fell into the chasm,” said Jaheira, peering downwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen shook his head and called for them to join him. His finger ran over the odd carvings in a plaque. “It must be writing,” he muttered, “but what language?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis struck the hilt of his red sword on the stone. It hit a single pure note. It blended into his own voice, a haunting melodious dirge. The notes swelled and he shut his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve no time for performances,” said Anomen. “We need—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The bridge has fallen and ends in death,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> read Haer’Dalis. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Call forth the name to summon the path all creatures walk.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a riddle,” cursed Anomen, turning from the plaque.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Life,” said Jaheira at once. “Keep calm, Anomen. The riddle is simple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s in three parts,” said Haer’Dalis with a mild smile, just as the great stone bridge creaked. Now, it faced them, though still too far away. His finger traced new carvings that appeared. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Life is the bridge that ends in death, though duty holds it at bay. You are not alone on the bridge. Call the name to summon the companion. It travels with you always, through it you travel, and yet it does leave you behind.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Time,” guessed Yoshimo. He leaned over the chasm, speaking to the darkness. “Do you hear the Great Yoshimo, bridge?” The bridge extended a little closer, unsteady on its axis, and Yoshimo grinned. “Ah. I think I can make this, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran back down the steps and limbered up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you mad?” snapped Jaheira. “Hold, both of you impatient brats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo sunk into a bow. “Only a joke, fair druid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Time is with you and you travel through it,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>continued Haer’Dalis. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Time goes on without you, though duty may stay its hand. The bridge is not stable and the end changes place. Call forth the name of the most difficult step on the bridge of life.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, the last one,” said Anomen quickly. He smiled. “The last one ends in death. Oh, these riddles were no trouble at all. I don’t know why you were so concerned, Jaheira.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bridge did not move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It appears you are wrong,” said Haer’Dalis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen,” said Keldorn warningly. “Your conduct is unbecoming as—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first one,” said Jaheira, stepping between them as Anomen fumed. “The first step initiates change. Change for all living things is the hardest and most natural path to walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all waited with bated breath. Silence grew great and heavy, the chasm swallowing the sound of their heartbeats, but the bridge did not move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The next step,” said Keldorn determinedly. “No matter what pain or victory lay behind or what promise is ahead, we only have power over what we do next.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a screech of stone on stone, the bridge slid across the chasm along with a powerful gust of wind. It hit the ledge and clanged into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well done, wise hound of war,” said Haer’Dalis brightly. “Mayhaps you have a future in prose after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia rather disagreed with the bridge’s answer, but what was she to argue with a large slab of magical stone and an ancient temple?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had no time to ponder the meanings of life. A new foul stench found them. She loathed how quickly she recognised it, how familiar it had become. Not sewage. The sweet rot of old corpses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Foul undead,” said Keldorn. “Ready yourselves. Anomen, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>sacred flame—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know how to handle myself against a few walking dead! The cantrip is child’s play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet it is most often the simplest techniques that are forgotten by advanced warriors,” he said testily. “Rather like chivalry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s sword clanged against his shield. A spark struck, as threat or frustration. A faint radiant field rose from its center, rippling like a sheet as they followed the stench.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-Warmbloods!” cried a thin voice. “Must… warn the… mayor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stood, staring, as a zombie limped hurriedly away from the sunlight. She turned to Jaheira. “Have you known many undead to have mayors?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira stammered. “I’ve — I’ve never known undead to </span>
  <em>
    <span>speak</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve met a few,” said Thalia, sniffing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If they can speak, he can talk,” said Jaheira to Keldorn, who watched the zombie with less warm feelings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well. We shall see what can be extracted from this brain-eating husk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stench grew to astronomical proportions. It became fumes so thick they swam rather than walked towards them. The ruins appeared fresher. Corpse slime smeared along, next to bones freshly stripped of their meat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cave narrowed before it opened into a place that Thalia would’ve considered in need of a mayor. A township. A village. Structures had been fortified with rock or stained cloth. Undead — ghouls, zombies, ghasts, and skeletons — milled about. Some talked, words interspaced with guttural grunts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A ghoul gasped as they approached, his molted grey skin sagging. “NO! P-Please. Warmbloods, your scent — You will…” His gasp trembled as he sniffed. “You are in danger here. Please, leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been eating those people,” said Anomen. He shook his head and raised his sword. “What am I doing? Speaking with an undead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you get them?” asked Yoshimo shrewdly. “Can’t say this is a prime vacation spot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The… The Great Feeder drops — rains from the heavens.” His eyes burned like hot coals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rocky ceiling above bore deep fissures. A gap could be seen in its heights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t kill people,” said Thalia, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not… We do not want,” said the ghoul, struggling. “We come… afar. Risen. Afflicted. Cursed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is this Great Feeder? Have you seen the beholder?” asked Keldorn impatiently. “Do you know anything of use?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ghoul wrung his hands, face twisting with each turn. Saliva drooled from his sagging mouth. “P-Please, warmbloods. We are… hunger. Leave, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re leaving,” said Thalia, grabbing Anomen by the shoulder. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t leave this — this </span>
  <em>
    <span>commune</span>
  </em>
  <span> of flesh-eating undead under Athkatla!” spluttered Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s right,” said Jaheira with a sigh. “If we’re to invite scholars here, it’ll be unsafe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, relocate them,” said Thalia, exasperated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen shrugged off her hand. The other township’s inhabitants had begun to drift towards them. The mayor ghoul reached his hands out, warning his people back in another language. Hunger writ on each face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sympathy is a virtue, but unfairly extended becomes a grievous sin,” said Keldorn gravely. “Death is a mercy to the men and women they once were. These evil shells exist only to fill their bottomless hunger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I mislike the idea of creatures being innately evil and being killed despite finding a way to live with their quirks,” she said coldly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is hardly fair,” said Jaheira, though she hadn’t lowered her quarterstaff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A ball of radiant light burst from Anomen’s sword and struck the mayor in the back. Thalia turned before she saw the rest. Still, she heard. She felt Haer’Dalis follow her out of the town, a conjured flame behind her. The guttural growls and screams — so familiar, as she knew from other undead she had killed before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This sparrow is not oft surprised, yet delighted when he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like death for death’s sake, just because of what I am,” she said bitterly. “There might’ve been a way to help them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Odd. Death is compassionate,” he said thoughtfully. “Patient. For the sands turn on each by the whims of time and entropy, rather than short coarse endings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia brushed his poetic musings aside. The fighting clanged behind them, punctured by shrill screams and battlecries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those were </span>
  <em>
    <span>people</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not violent. Not robbing us. Not even killing.” She rolled her eyes. “Eating flesh might’ve been a downside, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you know tieflings are carnivorous?” He smiled at her. “Born of a lesser fiend leaves its mark. Many call it an evil mark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You agree with me?” she said hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all. While you intrigue me, I shall regret missing this bloodshed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stopped in her tracks. Haer’Dalis hadn’t realised she was no longer next to him for several steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asked, turning back. “The pure chaos that follows your footsteps brings me delight. Whether you partake or not, you are a harbinger of doom and destruction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice did not change. It was the same calm, ironic murmur, oddly soft and satiny at any volume. It only underscored his heritage he had just mentioned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t appreciate being mocked,” said Thalia through gritted teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped forward, frowning. “Goodness, my raven, it was not but a well-deserved compliment. Stay your fire. Death is inevitable, unavoidable, and, above all, necessary. What sense is there in fearing it? Joy rings better than sorrow, I say, so why ought we wallow in misery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Entertaining yourself with the deaths and pain of other — even undead — is cruel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The screams behind them hollowed to a sharp and sudden quiet. The battle had been won. The undead had met their second and final deaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would it be better to pity?” asked Haer’Dalis, furrowing his brow. “What good is pity? It weakens all whom receive it. Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>fancy it? Do you imagine the fine mayor might’ve found your tears more pleasing than your smiles?” He glanced at her with something less desirable. “Mayhaps, instead, you believe you’ve the power to save everyone from every harm and help everyone in need of everything — not only lost actors and sisters in prisons, but all the wrongs of the multiverse.” He clicked his teeth. “What a mighty goal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do what I can, when I can.” She glanced back. “Most of the time. I like to think it makes a difference to someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mockery left him. “Ah. You are neither the first nor the last to say so, I wager.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, what else could you do? Just, watch it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he nodded. And she knew that was exactly what he had in mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, so it goes,” he said with a soft smile. “Worry and fear and sorrow are in abundance and do naught but breed. Learn. You are famine. Learn to feast when you are starving. You are silence. Learn to dance when the music has ended. You are mortal. Learn to let go when the seas’ current drags you deep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She struggled to pull herself back from the intense look in his eye. In dim firelight, it was easy to see him for what he was — a fiend not of this world. He proffered a strength she couldn’t imagine. Perhaps it was only callousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps startled her. Haer’Dalis’ flame extinguished as Jaheira’s sun embraced them, his eyes lingering past her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we move on?” he asked. “I hear water crashing further down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others saw no need to defend themselves — why would they? Thalia continued to follow them, bitter. The smell of the undead hovered as a reminding cloud, impossible to ignore or forget. The narrow tunnel expanded suddenly again into a vast cavern, its ceiling shrouded in darkness. Runoff dripped from stalagmites and tiled paths rose above the lake. Gold and gemstones, long forgotten, glittered under their steps and pointed towards a majestic temple fallen to decay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>people</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sickly, diseased, more than half-dead themselves, but they appeared of sound mind. They watched the group with disinterest. Their arms and armour looked to be relics, in little better shape than the temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” one said dully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it?” asked Anomen, confused. “I’m a stranger in your time-lost buried city and all you’ve to say is hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man scoffed. “Shall I proclaim the wonder of your arrival? Shall I bemoan the turning of the age? I’m sure it would make you feel important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell us who you are,” said Keldorn. “What afflicts you and your tribe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Duty,” he said bitterly. “We are guardians. We guard the temple. This is very important work because every few hundred years someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanders this way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guard the cleric and his rod?” asked Jaheira. “Did he curse you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cleric?” The guardian laughed. “There is no </span>
  <em>
    <span>cleric</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We never speak the name of the power what sustains us, save to curse it. The deal we struck was one of service. There is no cure. There is no salvation. The hatred of this power that filled us rots what remains of our bodies and souls, for there is nothing left. We teach it to the young, and to the old that die and are then reborn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You worship suffering like a martyr of Illmater, but you lack pride or purpose in it,” said Keldorn disdainfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guardian matched his look. “I know not this name, but even the name of our own god is lost. Take what you will. We are guardians in name only, with no more mind than these statues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What cleric appeared to Sassar and his men, then?” asked Jaheira, doubting, as they approached the once-majestic temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The temple’s paint had weathered, though most of it had been defaced. Gold and yellow suns peeled away. Bands of gold striped across the floor radiated out of the altar like sunbeams. The great marble altar sported a deep fissure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man sat on the altar. His form was little more substantial than mist, but white gold hair graced his collar. He took a step and vanished. When his foot fell, he appeared mere feet from them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speak to I,” he said, though his lips did not move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the fallen god of this temple,” said Keldorn in awe. “Ancient and forgotten by the old empire. Your followers…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Despite their feelings, they must serve I,” said the god. His eyes wandered and landed on Thalia. They were pure gold, unblinking. “The letter of agreement binds them. They are to guard and I would provide eternal life. This was to be for all time. The device could not fall into the hands of the evil or the destructive gods.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so well hidden nothing’s come since the fall of Netheril,” said Yoshimo, his flippant tone earning a sharp glare from Keldorn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed. Time has passed. Not I. The device, once a beacon of faith, has withered yet remains powerful still. It may not destroy worlds, yet it may still destroy cities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a beholder above who seeks it,” said Jaheira. “It is far beyond our abilities, but for a god, even an avatar…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have more power than I,” said the god, not taking his eyes from Thalia. His stare bore into her and chilled her blood. Every word was flat, an immortal droning melody. “The hate of the followers of I sustains this place. I weep for children of I all. Without their misery, we would all have perished. No ability have I now to even destroy the rod, but… yes… If you were to instill hope in followers of I, to borrow my half and combine it with the beholder’s to slay the beast, a single flash could grant me the power to destroy it whole and end their suffering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would hand over the artifact you’ve spent centuries guarding?” asked Yoshimo, eyes narrowed. “And what cost might be paid for such a trinket?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Insurance, in the form of one of your own,” said the god at once. “One shall remain with me until the rod is returned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, if we can’t do it? If we can’t get the beholder’s piece or can’t slay it?” asked Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, they shall remain,” he said simply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taint in Thalia’s chest tingled. It was an odd sense, almost the sense of feeling another person nearby — a static charge. It reached knowingly to the god. It felt the vestige of divinity, the portfolio he had once held. Law. Time. Wizards. The sun and its stable turn over the sky, its life-giving marvel, its power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will stay,” she said determinedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira whirled about and began to argue. Yoshimo offered himself instead. Keldorn talked them both down. Yoshimo might come in use, if they needed to steal from the beholder. No more than a day, he promised. They could always return to the Order for reinforcements. Thalia would be safer here than with them in battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Satisfied, the god produced a wand of marble, ringed in obsidian and gold. It glowed as it traded hands. The group left with lingering uncertain looks. The door sealed behind them. It plunged the temple into sudden darkness, but the god’s avatar glowed. The gold sunbeams plated on the floor reflected the glimmer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to speak with me,” said Thalia bluntly. “What is it? Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The name of I was Amaunator. Keeper of the Eternal Sun. Light of the Law. The Yellow Wizard. Knew I was to wait here. Followers and I began this solitude an age ago, when still I was well-worshipped. The Netherese Empire might have fallen, but ceded I the sun to Lathander. For what, now know I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For me?” she asked, stunned. The weight of the centuries of suffering the followers had endured suddenly lay heavy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Knew I was to be here. Knew I we were to meet. Knew I not why. Knew I not whom. The whims of the Overgod are mysterious to even the most powerful — and have I not been among them in many a year.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amauntor retreated to his altar. Thalia followed, loathe to lost in the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not more powerful than you,” she said hurriedly. “Bhaal sired me, I’m sure you know, but I’m not any more powerful than a wizard. Many wizards are stronger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For now,” said Amaunator calmly. “Yet, you are wrong. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> stronger than I, even in this seat of greatest power. Death has been split most unnaturally among these local godlings. It must coalesce soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kelemvor is the current god of death,” said Thalia in a thick voice, fearing an argument. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fixed her with the blank golden stare. “Kelemvor is the judge of the unclaimed dead. Jergal is the scribe of souls. Cyric is the strife what creates death. Once was I the master of the passage of time. Yet, who now is the reaper? Who lets the living die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sure as hells don’t,” she said before she could stop herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Correct. None do. Cyric attempts to claim murder, yet he is worshipped for what which he does not control. He will surely seek you out. The eyes of the gods old and new are upon the Children of Murder, impotent, impatient, and in fear of what may come next.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’ll happen to me?” she asked in a whisper. “I haven’t encountered any other Bhaalspawn in ages, but… I know I’m not what I was before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Divinity is not a fact, but a scale,” said Amauntor. “From the humblest exarch who still towers above archmages, to the Overgod. Each Child’s death brings you closer to the greater god Bhaal once was. Divinity is unlike the Weave or other mortal powers. It grows and shrinks rapidly. It leaves marks of claimant on willing mortal souls. Chosen, clerics, worshippers, followers who meld into the god’s realm and body. Each bear a fragment of power and exist in symbiosis with their god, changing each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All the souls that followed Bhaal for centuries… Assassins, murders, killers…” Thalia couldn’t finish the question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Millenia.” He nodded slowly. “The more divinity you possess, the more they are part of you. And you of them.” He inclined his head. “Have I heard many other gods are debating on whom they think might ascend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s heart pounded in her chest. She panted fearfully. “What? You have money on me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I nothing to bet. Regardless, it wouldn’t be on you — or any of your sisters,” he added with a thought. “The monk shows promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia felt like she might be sick. She sat on the lowest step up to the altar and dropped her face into her hands. The steel of her gauntlets was cold to her clammy skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there any way to get rid of it?” she asked through gritted teeth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“After</span>
  </em>
  <span> we save Imoen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unlikely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the taint, Thalia felt Amauntar appear in front of her without taking a step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All but the very oldest gods began once as mortals,” he said. “In truth, there are few who wanted the burden of such power. Those who did have never been the kindest of us. Bhaal, Bane, Myrkul, Cyric, Mystryl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Us</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rocked, eyes shut and wished she could box her ears, too. “I don’t even like leading a party of adventurers,” she said to herself. “Why would I want to lead followers of a religion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because they are your duty — but this is all theoretical.” Amaunator sighed. He paced his temple, each step taking him to a new corner. “Know I not why the Overgod wanted us to meet. You will die long before a Child ascends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so,” said Thalia bitterly. “Hope they carve the taint out of me one day and let me be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will die of weakness, not mortal desire,” he said flatly. “Several other Children have spent all their lives preparing, training in the arts of war and magic, honing divinity like a blade. You have little chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To have her prospects told with such uncoated honesty relieved her. Like being promised that, at the end of the longest and hardest day, she would be able to sleep. Not now, of course. Not until Imoen was safe. She would die mortal. Murdered, surely. And not without a fight. It simply wasn’t her nature. But to know she would take no part in any Bhaalspawn wars made tears of relief crawl down her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia would not be cursed with the taint for all eternity. She would not become Bhaal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said breathlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are… welcome,” said Amauntaor, flustered. “Know not I why you shed tears of joy over the thought of grisly death, but Bhaal leaves foul marks upon his brood. Too, that you risk your life to rescue your sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imoen means… everything to me,” said Thalia, raising her head to face the darkness. “Death and gold mean nothing, if she might be safe. You have no idea the tortures He inflicted on us — could be inflicting.” She flinched away from the thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As said I, the gods have kept our eyes upon you. We know well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she safe? Still alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she asked it, Thalia feared and knew she couldn’t bear or believe a negative answer, but then Amaunator nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She lives still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amauntor paced, a pulsing golden ghost of a sun. Where he passed, the temple repaired itself. Paint brightened. Cloth wove whole. Stone sealed its cracks. Then, his aura moved away, and the temple fell into disrepair again, fueled by his followers’ ancient hatred. It painted a dreary picture of the last millenia. Even for minutes, Thalia found herself dizzy watching him. She pitied whatever Bhaalspawn ascended. Divinity, apparently, couldn’t guarantee absolute power and glory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you?” she asked quietly. “Before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amaunator paused, blinking to appear in front of her. “I…” He frowned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you even remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ask I what happened hundreds of thousands of sunsets ago.” He sat next to her on the step to his altar. Under the silver hair, he didn’t look much older than Jaheira. “I… made shoes,” he said. “The town does not exist anymore. My children worshipped I. Their grandchildren worshipped I. Their grandchildren thought of their bloodline a myth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was the town called?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rairdul,” he whispered. “The Keep of the Eternal Sun, the realm of I, resembles it. I… They lived rich, blessed lives under I. All did I, did I for they.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rose a hand and one of the weathered statues glowed with an internal gold light. A woman, serene and beautiful. She stood next to a lover, their sex indeterminate. Amaunator’s own features and bearing shifted and he blinked, to stand by it in reverie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia gave him his space and quiet. She couldn’t escape the press of his longing, but the temple felt a little less desolate. Amaunator did not move from the statue, nor did he say another word. She let the minutes slip by, deep in thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door creaked open. Amaunator faded entirely, taking the light with him. Jaheira’s bloom of daylight followed the door, as the guardian led the group in. They looked quite battered and exhausted. Blood smeared their armor and faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See,” said the guardian bitterly. “Nothing here. There is never anything here but the stench of our hate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why ought he come to you?” asked Keldorn in a grave voice. “Do you bother to offer tribute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There has been nothing to praise,” said the guardian. He wrung his hands, eyes twitching as he took in the broken temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything go alright?” called Thalia, standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood splattered Jaheira’s armor, but she didn’t appear to be bleeding. “Perfectly,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this not yet a sign?” asked Keldorn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amaunator!” blurted the guardian. He threw his arms out, face beared to the ceiling. “Your people call to you! I, Argu Tindul, Sunlord of the Third House, First Guardian of the Conduct of Worship contract, do give my voice to your name. We ask… We call… Please, my lord, we’ve need of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amaunator faded in again, brighter than before. His light chased the shadows away like beaten dogs and made Jaheira’s light dim in comparison. The guardian’s knees gave out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hear I,” said Amaunator, “you who have suffered and suffer still. Letter of our contract states you shall guard until the end of time. Your time has ended.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached a hand to Anomen, who bowed shortly and offered the rod. Twice as long as before, it looked to never have been broken at all. Amaunator crushed it between his hands into a powder. The broken magic rippled out like tides and washed over them. The guardian’s skin filled out again and he appeared as a strong young man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is left to do, my lord?” he asked in a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” promised Amaunator. “Your contract is fulfilled. You and the others have served admirably. You will all sit by the side of Amaunator in the Keep of the Eternal Sun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man choked and sobbed. “Praise be to the keeper of time, that he might let it end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rest your mind in the heart of I, child,” he said gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guardian stumbled forward and fell, dead. A strange thump outside and Yoshimo’s startled look behind them said all the others had collapsed as well. Amaunator’s light became blinding as he absorbed their souls into himself. The temple reknit itself, the gold rays polished to a shine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have done a service for the realms,” said Amaunator, his voice richer and solemn. “The likes of which you might never fully understand. A tyrant beholder lies dead. A rod of immeasurable power is out of the hands of evil, forever. Children of I know peace, their duty fulfilled. And now returned to the greater lands above and beyond is a new god of law, honour, and the sun itself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a duty of the righteous to protect our city,” said Keldorn. “Now, our clerics and initiates are safe. It was an honour to assist you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amaunator smiled thinly. “Honour is a savoury reward. Yet it is not all you will leave with.” His light flared again, until Thalia had to shut her eyes. A heavy gold symbol, stamped with the sun, sat in the god’s hand. Not Lathander’s dawn sun with a winding road, but the radiant orb of the noon sky. He extended it to Keldorn. “A Shard of the Sun, knight of Torm, a holy token blessed with the power of I. Call in need and answer shall I by ray and shine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keldorn dropped to a knee and accepted it, eyes wide. The glow settled in his hand, but it still gave off an unnatural light. “I will treasure your gift, lord god, and endeavor good works with it at hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amaunator nodded and glanced to Jaheira. “Warrior druid of Silvanus. He and I considered once our followers brothers and sisters. Nature and the Sun. May hope we will again be close.” When the flare cleared, he offered a brass jar by its handle. “Light is where you flourish. And so banish the darkness around you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A faint sunlight leaked from the seal. Runes faded to a dim glow as Jaheira took it. “Thank you,” she said, surprised. “I will keep the Sun close to Nature.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amaunator reached through the light for the third gift. The light warbled, becoming hard to look at directly, before folding into a silky dark cloak studded with suns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Planesman,” he said. “The power of I is unknown in your homeland. Forget it not, for time never shall forget not to turn onwards and the changing heavens ought ever be witnessed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This Doomguard forgets nothing of entropy’s waiting embrace.” Haer’Dalis donned the cloak over his armor. The suns dimmed to an unremarkable embroidering. One lifted on a delicate hand into a ball no larger than Jaheira’s own light — but it spun from his hand to burst, as though full of liquid light, on the far wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pleased, Amaunator reached forward once more. When the light settled down, he did not hold the gifts, but they hovered in front of him. Thalia frowned, crossing the temple to get a better look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yoshimo,” he said, “dutiful loving brother and blackhearted thief. You break laws and oaths without thought. Consider this your first step. Glint the sun blade, for the shine of rich reward justly earned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo eyed the sword hilt that drifted towards him. It might’ve been platinum, set with a black stone. “I understand I might not be the most… attractive servant to a god of laws, but, you did forget the rest of the sword. Yoshimo may be great, but I cannot stab foes with a hilt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Accept it,” he said blankly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo grabbed the sword hilt and gasped. Where a sword should’ve been, a beam of light exploded. It mimicked his own katana blade. The light pulsed, flickering like a candle, but a brilliant golden-white. He stared at it, struck speechless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amaunator smiled thinly and turned to Anomen. “Squire of Helm the Vigilant. A warrior lusting after the just oath. The path you walk crawls with danger and temptation. Candor the sun spear, for unflinching truth sets the soul free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen kneeled as Keldorn had, a shine and eager smile in his eye. The gold shaft offered to him was barely longer than his hand. The moment he touched it, the spear roared to light. Beams extended from either direction, a sharp-tipped spear and shaft. Radiance crackled like lightning, dripping down his hand as he grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will be my honour, lord god, to wield such a weapon of radiant righteousness against the forces of darkness and enemies of Helm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amaunator turned to Thalia. His gaze fixed her to the spot. The gold eyes held a swirling depths they hadn’t before and she wondered what they had unleashed from this ruined city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hilt was pure gold and intricately carved with Netherese runes. Sun rays burst from the topaz and rubies across the guard and pommel. She wrapped her fingers around the grip. Even after having seen it twice, it took her breath away. The sun blade burst into a longsword at her will as she drew it. Like a great static charge, the feeling traveled up her arm. Deeper, still, she felt it touch the taint and recoil. Amaunator and Bhaal did not mix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aurora,” said Amaunator softly, “for the dawning of a new day. Time turns on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the assortment of light-bearing holy gifts, the way back to the surface passed much easier. The others, bloody and exhausted, were in a thin mood. Faced with a risen god, none felt like talking. A thrilled Sassar and his followers joined them — the remnants of the Unseeing Eye cult.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Night had fallen. The temples lit the district with a bright cheer, spilling song into the streets. A pool of sunlight emanated from them. Clutching Amaunator’s Shard, Keldorn marched them up to the headquarters of the Order. Banners of Helm, Lathander, Torm, and other good gods hung with reverence, alongside vast paintings of battle and storied paladins. Thalia hurried to catch up as Keldorn led them into a common chamber. A number of young men and women drank by the fire, talking and gaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apologies, noble sirs and dames,” said Keldorn breathlessly, “but I’ve news of our missing recruits. The Unseeing Eye cult and its master — a beholder — have been vanquished. These are the remnants, in need of care and comfort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An older man stepped forward, just as hale as Keldorn, despite the grey in his hair. “Knight-Inquisitor Keldorn, I did not expect you and the squire back so shortly. You must have quite the story. We’ll look after these. Jorn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another man set his drink aside and led Sassar and his followers gratefully to another room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me, Prelate Wessalen,” said Keldorn, “but I would rather tell this tale where Sir Ryan Trawl may hear.” He lay a hand on Anomen’s shoulder. “His squire has served with distinction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prelate eyed Anomen with an indulgent smile. Anomen’s chest swelled with the praise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Delryn,” said another squire, smiling goodnaturedly as they spotted Anomen. “I suppose you slayed the beholder in single combat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen reached for Candor with a snarl. The sunspear burst into his hand with a sudden brilliance. He did not move to strike, but the other man stumbled in shock. He fell over a divan and landed on his backside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Delryn!” snapped Keldorn. “Stay your weapon. Amaunator did not gift you that to swing at initiates — your comrades-in-arms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen flushed a terrible blotchy red, but Candor retracted its light. “Sorry,” he said waspishly. “But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> slay the beholder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man picked himself off the floor, glaring. “Alongside the inquisitor, a fiend, northerners—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This fine tiefling has had his role to play, too, aye,” said Keldorn in a stony voice. “And this conduct is unbecoming to </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> who wishes to be knighted — yes, Folcha, that means you, too. It shames yourselves, your oaths, and the very Order itself in front of outsiders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man snapped his jaws shut and reddened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was mention of a reward,” said Thalia lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prelate sighed. “Yes, yes. I will finalize things with Sir Keldorn and have it in your hands by the end of tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it is best we discuss this in private,” said Keldorn, eyeing the other initiates and Anomen. “Some matters may be more sensitive than others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen ground his teeth and Thalia had to pull at his shoulder before he followed them out into the streets. He cursed under his breath and refused to be dragged from his thoughts. Dinner saw much celebration, but Thalia was just as lost. Amaunator’s words lingered in her ears. A warning — divine to divine. The ridiculous concept filled her with fear, as Aurora weighed in her lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia hadn’t realised the late hour until Jaheira shook her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to bed,” she said, and it didn’t sound like the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira sighed and retired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere along the evening, she had discarded her armor. Aurora stayed near. Around them, the barroom had calmed. Yoshimo had vanished. Haer’Dalis had found himself standing on a table as a makeshift stage. The ballad was embellished with a haze of musical illusion, and not one she knew, but she couldn’t absorb it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen glared vengefully into his untouched stew. His dark mood roiled off him in waves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to spar?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced up, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s what I prefer to do. Hit something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get me a drink,” he said through gritted teeth. “Something… strong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tossed a few more copper on the bar and returned with her own cider and a short cup of a cloudy violet spirit. Anomen turned his glare to it. Tentatively, he wrapped his fingers around it, but didn’t drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a good listener,” she said, resettling across from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir Keldorn and a return to the Order dredged up old memories best buried,” he said quietly, barely over the din of the Copper Coronet. “They fester and I do my best to push them aside. Oft, my best is… lacking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you thinking of?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The day Sir Ryan accepted me,” said Anomen with a bare smile. “Years as a priest, helping those clerics of Helm, spending each spare moment with borrowed blade and anyone who would teach. Sir Ryan Trawl, eventually, decided I was worthy. Not by my father’s name or noble blood, but what </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> decided I stood for. My deeds and skills. I was so proud during the ceremony.” He sniffed. “Happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised the cup to his lips, but didn’t drink. He set it back down, grimacing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Cor interrupted us,” he admitted. “Storming drunk, as always. He shouted and hollered — at Sir Ryan Trawl and the prelate, no less. Said I was a boy been stolen away. Worthless and weak, but his property and heir nonetheless. He was dragged out, kicking and screaming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he’s proud of you now,” said Thalia. “Slew a beholder. Blessed by an ancient sun god.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want his pride,” said Anomen venomously. “I don’t need it!” His face twisted. “Ah, listen to me. What a pathetic knight I must be, a weak boy whining over a father’s approval. Forgive me, my lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you’re weak,” she said. She eyed the drink he had asked her to bring. “I think we all bear Illmater’s wounds. I won’t stop you if you want to break your oaths to Helm, but I do think it would be a mistake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen reconsidered the drink and pushed it aside. “The only life I may ever have is with the Order,” he said softly. “They are but my only chance to make a man of myself — a better man than Lord Cor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be knighted. Don’t worry about that.” Thalia tipped back his drink in one. The eye-watering burn brought back her own dark memories of Mae’Var, his whispered praise, and she grimaced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are very kind,” he said with a sigh. He stood. “It would be best for us both to find some rest tonight. Your sister awaits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It managed to drag a smile out of her. “I’ll be off soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis was quite the talent, it seemed. He folded himself among the rough adventurers, spewing his black comedy had tears streaming with laughter. When the ballad ended, he noticed she watched him and he hopped off the stage with a bow. Complaints and goodnatured insults followed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Find new friends?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis smiled and dropped himself next to her. “The world is but full of friends, only a hair out of reach. But, I’ve had a thought, my raven. One that has possessed this bard since we spoke only this morn of your parentage. I’m sure you’ll find my proposal irresistible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted. “Still trying to figure out how exactly I became </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> raven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’Tis a fair trade. After all, I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> sparrow, at your command.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clever,” she said, her eyes sliding sideways to meet his smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’Tis only this sparrow’s nature, as it is yours to avoid the question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve a feeling I won’t like what’s about to come out of your mouth,” said Thalia frankly. She sipped her cider and he took it from her, sharing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You possess a rare and beautiful spirit, that make each of us feel treasured and appreciated.” He raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis scoffed, but continued. “My dear raven, you lead a life of intrigue, mystery, and violence. You dance alongside gods, hunt archmages, and command unreserved death. To be a witness is a pleasure I treasure above all others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s mouth dried and she found herself keenly aware of the soft intensity of his voice and stare. “Speak plainly. Ask what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This bard begs permission, on bended knee, to write your tale,” he said. “From start to finish, the story of the Daughter of Murder. Tis most selfish of me to keep the priceless jewel of your life hidden from the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared. “That is a horrible idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the challenge, Haer’Dalis edged closer with a sigh. “Ah, my gentle raven, do you not see the value of sharing your experience with the world? You need not do a thing. Merely answer questions as they come and this sparrow shall do the rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed most of her cider, stifling a laugh. “Ask your questions. Can’t promise I’ll answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He withdrew a length of paper from his sleeve, a feather quill that decorated his shirt button, and smiled something awful. Dread mounted in her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, I know of your father, but what of your mother? Are you the mirror’s likeness of the fair woman? You speak of Candlekeep, but I know not where this place is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia rolled her eyes. “You were serious, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All life is born to decay and die. Tis all the more reason to take as much from life as possible. Taste, touch, breathe in every experience until this sparrow is fit for bursting.” Haer’Dalis dipped the quill and smoothed the paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You answer your own questions first,” she said cagily. “You’re still such a mystery to us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naturally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’ll give me a straight answer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled. “My, aren’t you a sharp one? I shall endeavour to provide answers which fully satisfy your curiosity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not easily satisfied,” she grunted, throwing her dusty boots on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We shall see. I’ve been complimented on my talents for satisfaction,” he said smoothly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stared, unpuzzling his words, but he had already repeated his question again. “There’s nothing to tell of my mother,” she said. “I never met the woman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No memory at all?” he asked, disappointed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve… fragments,” she said reluctantly. “Gorion didn’t speak of her often, but I sometimes think I remember her. Probably just wishful thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” he said with savour, taking a note in strange glyphs. Infernal. They curled into circles. He wrote without ink, the feather producing its own. “The decay of the mind and its memories is a most bittersweet pain. Of Gorion, now, the man who raised you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only father I knew. He only wanted the best for me, even knowing the darkness and my origins. He accepted me as a child,” she said, surprised to find her voice thicken with emotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mourn his passing, still?” asked Haer’Dalis, oddly puzzled. “Tis a fate we none can escape, but you are no Doomguard, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stiffened at the intrusion and blamed him for the refreshed grief. Still, Haer’Dalis didn’t seem to probe for his own sick enjoyment of death. Nor to mock her. He seemed a friend, straightforward if confused. She remembered the character he showed Keldorn, but still longed to believe the one he showed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your turn,” she said roughly. “Pester me about my evil heritage, I get to pester you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis’ smile held no humour. “This sparrow is not quite yet accustomed to being prodded so roughly, but he did promise. My mother was an alu-fiend — daughter of a succubus and mortal. My father a cleric of Lathander, of all things, whom she seduced. He lost his position in the temple when she left me to him. He attempted to reclaim his status and sold me to slavers. Miss Raelis found me as a boy and stole me to Sigil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia blinked, shocked at how easily he gave his own story away, as simply as stating the weather. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held up a finger. “What did I say about pity and smiles? What would you rather have from I, and I from you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia forced her lips upwards in a poor imitation. Haer’Dalis reached out and turned her lips higher, his skin hot. She snorted and smiled fully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any strange evil urges in your blood?” she asked him, mimicking his drama.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, yes. Come close.” Somber, Haer’Dalis set down his pen and turned dark chilling eyes to her. “I am a creature of the Hells, my raven, and have uncontrollable and deadly lusts. For cinnamon.” His eyes widened fearfully. “Tis a grave vice, I know. Ah, a craving has struck!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fled from the table and returned moments later with a plate of honeyfingers, topped with a heavy brown sprinkle. Thalia regarded them, her insult at him making light of her heritage overshadowed by amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hide your humour, as if afraid for the world to see you smile,” said Haer’Dalis, disappointed. He ate a honeyfinger whole with impressive gluttony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were rather overspiced to Thalia’s taste. “Maybe I’m worried that if the world sees me smile, it’ll decide to take away what little I have left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis softened and nodded. Instantly, Thalia felt herself flush, embarrassed at the honesty. She had only known him a tenday and it wasn’t as if she tended to wax frightened with Jaheira. Eating another, she chalked it up to tiefling magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to tieflings being carnivores?” she asked dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we all pay for our vices. Yet, to the sinner, tis always worth the price.” He licked his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything else </span>
  <em>
    <span>tiefling</span>
  </em>
  <span> I should know of?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis shrugged. “I’m told I’m in possession of an aura that makes primes uneasy and some bold ones complain of the scent of sulfur on my skin, though I think it an exaggeration.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aura she could easily sense, though whether it was on account of his blood or bearing she wasn’t sure. The scent was more delicate, hidden under the day’s work. Sweat and the sweet-sick of stale blood. And, there. Sulfur. She didn’t know whether it was on account of her own blood or bearing, but it was a comforting smell. It missed only campfire smoke — the last scent of adventure and the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, the smell’s there,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let us pretend you speak of sulfur and not the rot of corpses and battle in need of strong soap and botanicals.” Haer’Dalis returned to his own notes and sighed at her insistent glare. “Very well. I’m no fool. I knew well what you asked before — though even I found it grim. My blood might have me flirt with danger, but, most times, I sense little influence — or so much influence it is a part of my very character. I know not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s heart thrummed with empathy and she breathed what felt like the first clean breath in months. His words lay to something she had never named before. “I… feel the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis lifted his pen, but, frowning, declined to make a note on that. “Aye,” he said thoughtfully. “To live like a beast, corralled in life, used by other than mine own thoughts and desires? The idea brings unease and curiosity in equal measure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d never let my blood rule me,” swore Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never?” He rose an eyebrow. “Oh, a life without cinnamon sounds dreadfully boring. Nearly as boring as a life without bloodshed, my raven. One day,” he promised dangerously, “I shall make you laugh. And it shall be this sparrow’s greatest achievement of performance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia smiled and chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glared. “Thank you, for robbing me of a finer occasion for such an accomplishment.” He brushed his fingers off and put his feather to paper again. “Now, tell me, how did Gorion tell you of your birth? Twould be a great scene, I am sure. Tears? Anger? Callous sentiment flung in distraught disbelief?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing so melodramatic,” she admitted. “He never told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis’ quill slid off the page. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The progeny of a dead god as his ward, a young mind bent and shaped by breeze, yet Gorion kept the truth? Astounding! I admit, this sparrow was raised largely among planes and decisions of primes still vex him, but — truly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had to laugh his horror. It came easy. “Truly. In fact, Edwin was the one to tell me, after it had begun to manifest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a note, still shaking his head. “What was Gorion’s motive, I wonder?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To keep me safe,” she said hollowly. The smile slipped. “He thought a safe, pleasant upbringing might leave Bhaal’s hold on me weak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think he succeeded?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll never know. I was raised only once, so I can’t say how else I might’ve turned out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stole his last honeyfinger and Haer’Dalis’ curious round eyes found her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A clever raven,” he mused. “You speak wisdom beyond your years. Tis a pity we won’t know how your wings might’ve spread with a darker path in your youth. Fascinating reflection it might be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Horrifying. Cruel. Ruthless,” she said blithely. “Candlekeep served me well, I think, for its suffocating safety.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, the horrors of safety we inflict on those we love,” he said thoughtfully. “What, then, drove you from your fair home amongst monks and books? Why did my raven fly the nest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Candlekeep was no longer safe. Gorion smuggled us out in the night, to meet with Jaheira and Khalid, his old friends,” she said, voice tight. “Already, an assassin had broke in, seeking me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis beamed and scrawled. “Oh, how dramatic!  What came of this escape? Clearly, Jaheira has fastened herself like a burr to your cloak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time had not dulled the memory. As Thalia thought on that night, her fist clenched in an effort to calm the ache in her heart. Her chest tightened. “We were ambushed. The assassin had been sent to flush us out. Gorion gave his life to distract them. Told me to run.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The quill set down and a hand slid over her fist, the touch burning hot. “My poor raven,” he whispered, “take my hand, please. It does me grave ill to see you so conflicted over something you can’t change. Gorion believed you worthy of this sacrifice and, by my sight, you have not squandered his faith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia couldn’t peel her eyes from the table, but she let Haer’Dalis uncurl her fist. His thumb brushed circles on her palm. She recoiled from the touch, stiff. He didn’t grip her tightly, but he persisted. And, slowly, she relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To have someone die for you must’ve been shocking,” he said softly. “People die </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you all the time, but to have someone give life freely to see you live instead of him is rather… uncommon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The softness wrung a sentiment from her that had never quite left her. She had hoped that had it remained unspoken, it might fade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t he just hand me over?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis smiled. “That none can answer. For my part, I am glad he did not. I would still be enthralled by that insipid mage, or sold across Sigil as a new slave. Know I agree with your Gorion’s determination. Tis a rare person who can inspire such devotion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced up. “Are you saying you’d die for me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brought her hand to his lips briefly and released it. “Is that not what I declare each time I draw blades in your defense?” He reconsidered wryly. “Perhaps not. Most Doomguard would be pleased only for the chance to hurry entropy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia retracted her hand. It still felt warm from his touch. Must’ve been the succubus bloodline in him. She resettled herself and pushed it from her mind. “You’ve mentioned Doomguards a few times now,” she said. “What are they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis sighed and sat back. “Well, they are one of the fifteen ruling factions of the city of Sigil. Guilds, more like. Doomguards are the guardians of decay, the saboteurs of meaning, the agents of the natural order. Living things die. What we build falls to ruin. Order gives way to chaos. Everything ends,” he said wistfully. “And, so it goes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very doom and gloom,” she said with a snort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite indeed.” He took a deep breath. “There is a beauty in it. A sanctity. The multiverse is a snake that has caught its tail in its mouth… and has begun to swallow deep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what happens when it’s done swallowing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, slow and passionate. “Then, my raven, the world will be made perfect through destruction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a very strange man,” said Thalia. The haunted longing in his voice spooked her and rose the hair on her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tis in this sparrow’s nature, too.” Haer’Dalis accepted it with a bow of his head. “If you might entertain me further, I would ask you to let me stay at your side. I must know how this tale ends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowned. “You expect me to send you away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truth? I do not know. It has been said before that this sparrow is not the easiest bird with which to live, certainly not for prolonged journeys. Perhaps you may tire of his song?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doubt it,” said Thalia shortly. “Stay as long as you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis blinked. “What? I ask and you so graciously grant my desire? Is it truly so simple?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one making things complicated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, rather sheepishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia thought again on the strange philosophy. “Why would you ask for an assurance, if you’re convinced everything will just die out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tis foolish, I admit,” he said grudgingly, “but we have all done foolish things, from time to time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if you never thought anything would last, never think on a future, you wouldn’t want to build anything,” she said, her voice slow and pensive. “You… would never love, never settle, never plan or hope for anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Haer’Dalis smiled and stood, tucking away his notes. “To live in the present and what it may offer. I knew you would understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia hesitated. She wasn’t so sure she did, but he had turned from her before she could give a different answer. As before, his sudden departure left a strange hollow in her chest. Strange, because she didn’t know what she had expected, yet still feeling she had lost something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strange certainly was in the sparrow’s nature.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Final Offer [Part 2: Ash]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>
  <b>Part II </b>
</h1><h2>
  <b>Ash</b>
</h2><p>
  <em>“<span>When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes long into you. The dark leaves none untouched and homes in the heart.</span>”</em>
</p><hr/><h2>
  <b>Chapter Twelve: Final Offer</b>
</h2><p>
  <span>Thalia counted again. None begrudged her handling their coin. Renal’s bag of holding rattled with an ocean of clinking. Across the floorboards, dozens of tiny piles marked her count. The edges glinted bright yellow, stamped with seals of kingdoms near and far. Ships, eagles, horses, lions. And, for Mae’Var, Renal lowered the price. Despite the vast sea of coin, ten thousand more had been earned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In total, twenty-two thousand six hundred and twelve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even a little bit to spare. The relief left her weak, slumped against the wall with tears in her eyes. The bird, perched on her bed, cocked his head in what was now a familiar way. Approving. Inquisitive. Friendly. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shiny gold.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded wearily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moon had risen high. Another night without sleep. Jaheira and Anomen would have opinions in the morn about the siege of Spellhold, what defences they might expect, equipment needed. Thalia would be surprised if any coin remained. Not that it mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard would have to set the meeting with Renal. Though cloistering himself in his room saved them all from his presence, it was a bother to have need of him again. The dependency irked her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia hammered unceremoniously on his door. Magelight flickered from under it. From within, something tipped over. The wizard cursed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling her eyes, Thalia grimaced and </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The doors were all the same, the turn of the bolt identical. She felt it, on the other side of the door, between her magical fingers. It clicked open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve the coin,” she said, entering. “The Shadow Thieves… Are… Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question wasn’t out of concern, but shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gleaming golden Nether Scroll spilled across the floor like a discarded scarf. Stacks of books, notes written in sloppy ink across a dozen languages, and several empty bottles of wine surrounded it. Edwin sat on the ground, scrambling with clumsy hands after the fallen books. He didn’t wear his red robe. The gold ruby jewelry looked most out of place against simple black clothes. Days of stubble shadowed his tattoos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am fine!” snapped Edwin. “More than fine! I am…” He grunted as he restacked the books crookedly. “Magnificent. The greatest wizard Thay has ever produced. Master of a Nether Scroll.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shut the door behind her uncertainly. “Uh-huh. Well. I suppose I’d rather you than Anomen turn to drink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The halfwit cleric, spouting sanct— sanctimonious dribble. Good for… monkey work.” He snatched a still-standing bottle and put it to his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nether Scroll not going so well?” she asked innocently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard turned a half-mad glare to her. “Absolutely! Come. Come here. Tell me what you see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lettering on the Scroll shifted like waves, brightening and dimming, the unfamiliar lines wriggling like worms. Symbols came and went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed. “It’s beyond me—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly!” he exclaimed with a cruel laugh. “Exactly. It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>beyond</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, mighty godschild. All your divinity and you are a mite of dust before arcana. Your birth means nothing — </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, when compared to I.” He struggled to stand and slipped on a page of his notes. “My work — </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine </span>
  </em>
  <span>— will see me ascend. My accomplishments. My power. Mine own mastery. Birth and nobility and destiny — and it won’t matter.” He laughed bitterly. “Won’t matter at all, in the end. In the end, it’ll be me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a meeting—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly,” he said, satisfied. He grabbed the wine bottle and sat on the bed. “Exactly. You need me. They all need me, they’ll see. You need what I’ve built, my contacts, my magic, my mighty brain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia snorted, but Edwin seemed to be too far gone to realise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your brain is very mighty,” she said condescendingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned. “It is indeed. You know how difficult it is to learn magic whilst working a field?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia lost her smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am a genius,” he said with passion. “So great the tharcion took note. My blood did not matter. The callouses on my hands, the length of my hair, the black of my clothes — only my talent. And who survived? Who lived? Who, out of a hundred in their year, won? The Initiate of Conjuration of the year 1358.” He raised the drink, but his smile rotted to a scowl. “I’m sure the Nether Scroll would’ve unwound for Wila. Lay down at her feet like a lover, aching to give — like everything else did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” said Thalia wearily, “I’m sure you killed her. Now, about Renal—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” he said, thinking on the fond memory. “A trap she never saw. Arrogant wench. Spit from the high horse until it bucks you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia turned from the wizard. “I will go ask Yoshimo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait! Bhaalspawn!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin yelping, muttering darkly, and scavenging through his notes was a sight she enjoyed far too much. At last, he thrust a sheet of parchment at her. The handwriting was barely legible, but she managed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A Highly Official Treatise on the Positions of Obedient and Useful Red Knights.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Numbered up to thirty, as he had promised, each detailing a different type of spell he might cast and her matching move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Memorize it by dawn,” he said, dark eyes warbling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will.” She sighed and left him to his drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo knew the Shadow Thieves enough to promise the meeting, but Thalia had a hard time forgetting Edwin. Amusingly pathetic, for one with such a mighty brain. She slept fitfully that night, thinking of Imoen’s imminent rescue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dawn came too soon, as it always did. Thalia fumbled with Aurora as she struggled to sit the hilt comfortably. Without a metal blade, the grip had to tuck into her belt. It would be awkward to draw. Surely a leatherworker could make a harness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprising the gods, surely, Edwin sat in a dark corner, massaging his temples. Few patrons of the inn had breakfast early. He didn’t seem to be in much mood for food either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sober up quickly,” said Thalia, dropping herself next to him. “What was it? Renal smells weakness like fiend hounds smell blood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not a drunkard,” he said irritably. “The mental strain of working with the Nether Scroll — a treasure of the dawn of creation — would take its toll on any, turning the likes of your feeble mind to mashed potato.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmph.” Thalia fetched a plate breakfast from the bar. As she slathered bread with spreads, she nudged a bowl of garlicky olives towards the green wizard. “Eat,” she said, smirking. “You need your strength.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jerked upwards. “You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> there,” he said swiftly, horror in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia raised an eyebrow. “Wila?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, mercies of Thay…” Edwin groaned and bit his lip before becoming dreadfully serious. “You will never speak of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never,” she promised. The bread was hearty, buttery with seeds and pocketed with dried fruit. “You worked a field?” she asked, unable to keep the smile from her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin turned the same shade as his robes. “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “My parents owned a farm. I knew I was destined for greater things and turned to magic. The tharcion, Homen Oddesairon, took me as his ward when he heard of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky,” she said lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin slammed a fist on the table. The olives jumped. “It has nothing whatsoever to do with luck,” he snapped. “Do not </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> diminish me by attributing my success to lesser forces. I am a product of myself. I crawled inch by inch to others’ starting lines.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced and bowed her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The proper response is an apology,” he said, lip curling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The more I know you, the more I respect you.” She stood and finished her slice of bread.  “I hate it.” Reluctantly, she swallowed. “Eat. It’ll help the hangover. Yoshimo will arrange a meeting today with Renal—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” said Edwin sourly. “Call off that weasel. Renal will likely double the price and send Yoshimo’s head back in a crate. If you will obey and remain silent, I will take you myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia raised an eyebrow. “Now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He regarded a piece of bread with disdain, but bit into it. “Fifteen minutes. And don’t think to bring that sun blade. Too many sticky fingers and leering eyes for such a treasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s called Aurora.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bread paused, half-way into his mouth. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>named</span>
  </em>
  <span> your sword?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lots of people name their sword,” she said defensively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lots of monkeys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The ancient Netherese sun god Amaunator named it. Not me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reconsidered. “A monkey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia wasn’t much concerned about sticky fingers, but, with vampires on the prowl, she was loathe to part with it. She left it with Jaheira, once Edwin decided they were ready. At his side, Thalia’s eyes flickered over the alleys and rooftops. It was early, still, but the abnormal movement caught her eye. They were being followed. Slyly. Truly. Not a spare moment of paranoia on her part, though she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it. A flash of black hair on the rooftops, hid behind a half-wall. Rapid footsteps. Yoshimo? He had seemed unbothered at the Copper Coronet when Thalia told him plans had changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia was about to point it out when the wizard gripped her arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silence, you idiot,” he hissed. “What agenda he bears will reveal in time. Do not let him know he has been spotted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal’s guildhall felt sparser than the last time. No jovial halflings playing cards. Not a soul to greet them, even. Edwin led them upstairs, through the narrow decorated halls. He traded soft words with a guard before Renal received them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The paunchy thief’s mask fluttered. He smiled intimately and cooed over his wizard, restating his prior compliments of Thalia’s work. Dark bags hung under his eyes. It had not even been two tendays. In the short time, he had found a few more wrinkles, his eyes colder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red, I presume?” asked Renal, reaching for a bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, no,” said Edwin hurriedly, his typical olive pallor not yet recovered. “I’m quite alright. Drink dulls the mind this early in the morn. Make this one any duller she might forget the breathe on her own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m sure you’ve enough hot air for the both of you,” said Renal charmingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He poured two cups and, to please him, Thalia tasted it and sat at his little table. Renal folded his hands and leaned forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now,” he said, “to what am I owed the pleasure of your presence? I might rather have another job, since you were so—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have the coin,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal’s smile stiffened. “Pardon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten thousand gold, as per our agreement,” said Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fear flickered behind Renal’s eyes and Thalia felt the axe hang over her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said, disbelieving. “We had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>deal</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The guild — we are not—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are losing your war,” said the wizard curtly. “Not only in territory and coin, but people. People are influence, in the docks, the government, the merchants. And they are vanishing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal swallowed his wine and reached for a bottle of something stronger. “I’ll pay you the due, no fear. Ten thousand coin, as you’ve earned by Mae’Var. Delivered today, even. If you’ve truly accumulated the fortune, we — I —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bottle flung out of Renal’s hands and smashed against the far wall. He stared at it, then at Edwin, before Thalia stood. She had left her sword at the inn. Maybe that didn’t matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These sorts of little skirmishes,” said Renal with a rushed smile, “they blow over. A few months, a year, we’ll be on the coasts of Spellhold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t our deal,” said Thalia darkly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll find we never agreed upon a time limit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should honour the agreement made,” said Edwin. He stood and pushed a commanding hand on her shoulder, but it was weak. She didn’t sit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal’s smile tumbled away. “We will. In our own time. Patience, you should learn it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have played by your rules,” he began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you shall play a little longer.” He smirked. “What else are you going to do? Swim? I’ll bother Linvail, if you want to have that on your head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Believe me, you don’t want </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> on your head if you don’t,” said Thalia. She shoved off Edwin’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renal barked a laugh. “I’ll forgive that little bottle. Call it a sorcerer’s temper.” His dark eyes glittered menacingly. “But I won’t forget threats in my own house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They aren’t threats until acted upon,” said Edwin with a sharp glare. “Only ugly words. Trust me, Renal, the sorcerer is on a leash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gnawing on it,” he said blithely. “Ensure the beast doesn’t piss on the carpets on your way out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird burst from thin air, claws extended. Edwin grabbed the bird by a wing with a sudden reflex and blackness edged at Thalia’s vision as he vanished. The pain echoed with a frightened whimper. The wizard had truly damaged the bird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stumbled along, coming to with bright sunlight of the street at the docks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Control yourself,” he snapped. “I don’t want to have to do it for you. Renal is an unsavoury bastard, but he should know better to hold a contract. Linvail will set him straight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia rubbed at her shoulder, where the bird’s phantom pain vibrated. “You don’t know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one does,” said another smooth voice. The dark figure lingered in the shadows of an alley, arms crossed. “Pity you just can’t trust a thief these days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” demanded Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The figure smiled under her hood. “A friend, if you are friendly. My mistress would have words with you. She’s watched you, though she is not the only one. Those you have been asked to trust blindly in the dark spy as openly. Come to the graveyard after dark and she will give you what you seek.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What exactly do I seek?” she asked, advancing, but the figure only smiled more broadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A patron worthy of your trust. She may bring you to Spellhold, and for a fraction of what coin you have accumulated. Fifteen thousand. Do not delay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before her eyes, the figure whispered away into mist and filtered down through the grate under her feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A vampire,” said Edwin warningly. “Bodhi and her followers must think themselves close to a vital grip upon this city. They—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can discuss the philosophical ramifications of this later,” she said with a groan. Her fingers itched. Her heart pounded. She knew if she stayed too much longer on the street, she might cry or hit something. Or return to Renal and pound him into paste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Copper Coronet’s wall was a far more innocent a target. She left Edwin behind to explain matters to the bemused group. The walls were stone, inches thick, and didn’t so much as crack. The roughness blooded her knuckles. Sharp pain broke through her resistance. Tears began to flow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen was lost now. Truly. Beyond the hopes of the Shadow Thieves. Who knew what a year could bring? And what vampire was trustworthy? All that work, the desperate fear, the danger. All for nothing. Thalia’s own weakness, lying in a haze of fear and confusion under Edwin, had lost them over a month. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia punched the wall again and gasped in pain. It shot up with a crack. The pain throbbed with her heart as she slid to sit on the floor. Stupid. A finger had broken. She couldn’t bring herself to heal it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sturdy hand knocked on the door. Jaheira, surely. Come to try again with feelings. Thalia </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached</span>
  </em>
  <span> and opened the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed the door quickly behind her. “I heard of this temporary obstacle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Temporary,” she snorted. Thalia stood reluctantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hopelessness doesn’t become you.” Viconia stiffened but gripped Thalia’s injured hand and healed it with a short incantation. “The heat of emotions has never come to solutions. Calm yourself, first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How am I supposed to forget being cheated? Lied to? Used? While Imoen is left to…” Thinking of it choked her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s lips turned upwards. “I said calm. Not forget. Focus on your goal, that pink child.” She hesitated, but continued, “I may have something that may help with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A spell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia chuckled. She led them to her own room and shut and locked the door. Some of Thalia’s fury melted to confusion. Not much. Viconia sat on her bed, next to a small box, and offered a hoop. The wood banded into a pair of circles, a piece of white fabric stretched taught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Embroidery?” asked Thalia skeptically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you never taught?” asked Viconia with disbelief. She clutched one close to herself, a square of black fabric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye.” She shrugged and sat. She understood almost at once Viconia’s intentions. It was impossible to hold a needle and the hoop with so much tension. The anger left her grip. A blue flower began in the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will prevail,” said Viconia, a bare whisper. “You are not a woman who will forget such unearned devotion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia would’ve argued the nature of her relationship with Imoen, but explaining sisterhood to a drow would be hopeless. The sentiment left her unable to speak, anyway. Imoen had been unerringly kind to them both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will find a way, simply because there is no other option,” she continued. “The world </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> bend to accommodate you, because you will leave it no choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted and swapped the colour of her thread. The box held well over a dozen spools, different thicknesses and all shades. As Thalia reached over, she glanced at the black cloth Viconia worked on. It took her breath away. Most all of it was in white and grey, great castles and a city carved into cavern walls. A drowish faerie fire glowed in the hand of the unfinished subject. Despite the intricate detail across the city, Viconia’s needle worked over it still while the figure was bare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful,” said Thalia, as Viconia’s bitter eye turned to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Menzoboranzan,” said Viconia unwillingly. “As the last time I saw it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The figure, then, was her brother. The man who had saved her when the rest of the family plotted her death. Thalia knew he hadn’t survived to the surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s blue flower grew. It reminded her of Imoen’s stolen cloak. The petals became pleats. The cloak had been enchanted to twirl dramatically, a magic she had used to great effect. The memory ripped her from her anger and returned her to a hollow sadness. A grief by any other name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A vampire was following us,” said Thalia thickly. “Yoshimo, too, though I think he spied for the Shadow Thieves. The vampire, she offered us passage to Spellhold for fifteen thousand. Renal promised me Mae’Var in coin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why wouldn’t you take it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sniffed. As if it was just that simple. “I could never trust them. I don’t much care if they’re vampire, ghoul, or devil, but the Shadow Thieves are the devil I know… or thought I knew.” Her hands tensed again. She sighed. “Mae’Var told me they had first kidnapped us for Irenicus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truly?” Viconia raised an eyebrow. “Then, this backing out of our deal is their second wrong against you. Do not give a third opportunity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sighed. “I suppose we’ll meet with this Bodhi, then, see what she has to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would suggest we keep her nature quiet,” she said delicately. “While some of us might understand the nature of practical alliances, others are…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noble?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was about to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but that works as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia remembered the boots Imoen used to wear. Her only black boots. Her other favourite shoes had all been pink, as had her clothes. Viconia had ample selection of black thread. With her Underdark embroidery, she had swapped to purples with the faerie fire. Each stitch was thoughtful, slow and purposeful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can all drow conjure that fire?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia startled from her thoughts. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Varlas was a mage, wasn’t he? Your brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia clutched the embroidery closer. “I’ve no need for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, regardless what you may believe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shrugged. “Not so sure about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you so unsure, kivvil? Your bleeding heart?” She snapped her thread and changed to a paler grey. “I choose to share certain details of my life because I enjoy watching your reactions. You amuse me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tossed aside the embroidery and groaned, sick of the whiplash. “Who are you trying to convince here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not think to question me or my motives, waela kivvil!” she snapped. “My thoughts are my own. Unfortunately, much as I loathe to admit, you are my protection is this godsforsaken place, so I must deal with your unstable idiosyncrasies and emotional drivel in order to survive. What is it that makes you so sure I won’t cast you to the wolves when you outlive your usefulness?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia moved to leave. “Nothing,” she said over her shoulder. “Call it a gut feeling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The self-same feeling which provoked you to abandon—” She cut herself off quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia did not finish the sentence, but Thalia heard it. The word stabbed her heart. Her hand slipped off the door handle and she turned back to Viconia, who had shut her eyes as though she could shove the unspoken word back in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not abandon you,” whispered Thalia. “We were kidnapped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia gritted her teeth. “When you were arrested, after slaying the duke’s daughter, he attempted to take me, too. Not the half-elves. Not the wizard. Not Imoen. Me. I allowed myself to be captured, when the pink girl begged me to not kill the males. And… time passed.” Her voice tightened. “I heard you had escaped, vanished into the ether. And, I, too, found my exit. Alone, as the drow ought be. Allies for my kind do not exist amongst drow or any other people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure Imoen did all she could to help you, too,” said Thalia. She knew it wasn’t enough, but she didn’t know what else to say. Edwin, at the same time, had disappeared from their party. “Lucky for you that you weren’t with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it?” asked Viconia, her voice sharper than a blade. It cut, but not in anger, nor arrogance, nor anything else Thalia knew. It cut in hurt. “You think Irenicus might’ve killed me? Broke me? Think, somehow, that the rest of your surface might’ve been kinder — though all would’ve wanted to take his place with a knife at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not leave you behind knowingly,” she said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaheira and Khalid did. And Imoen.” Viconia struggled to hold her needle steady. “Still, it is a product of my own willful softness. A mistake. The surface has dulled mine instincts, a product of the Underdark. There, allies made with a dagger held behind the back are the most bosom </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What you think they tell are mere shadows of reflections of truth. The most important person to someone will always be themselves. Life — drow, darthiir, human — is all the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not true or fair,” said Thalia threateningly. “I’m using Bhaal’s taint. I’m risking my mind, my soul, all our lives to rescue Imoen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? How nice for her. I’ll endeavor to tell her corpse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words bit harder than a slap, those red eyes glowing. Thalia left quickly, sliding a hand down her face. Imoen would’ve known what to say. Imoen would’ve managed to somehow hug Viconia and get her to hug back, to find the right questions to ask about Varlas, to make Viconia forgive her. Because Thalia </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> abandoned her. She had ridden off with the others in the dead of night without a thought. Nevermind that she hadn’t had the opportunity to do anything, she had never even thought to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Downstairs, Edwin, Jaheira, and Anomen had been joined by another. At first, Thalia had thought it Yoshimo, but then she saw Anomen’s look of disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaelan Bayle. The Shadow Thief who had first given them their deal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaelan turned in his chair and stood fluidly. “Ah, just the lady I be hoping to meet! Was just telling your friends here. Sit, sit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia did not sit. She stood behind Anomen’s chair, glaring, until Gaelan sat with the same cold smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you still got the bedside manners of a well-fed maggot,” said Gaelan cheerfully. “Like you, I do. I do. Telling you, ask Mr Wizard, I spoke up for you, I did. When Aran says forty, Gaelan said twenty. And twenty it was. Today.” He grinned and slid back in his chair. “Today, Gaelan says a new number.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much?” she asked, glancing to Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fifteen,” said Edwin stiffly. “And conditional.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, now,” said Gaelan with a wagging finger, “after all Aran’s been hearing about you lot, he thinks he’s got a good group on his hands. You can handle some dirty work.” His eyes glittered. “Means we don’t need to go waiting on for newcomers anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ve lost many of their best to a vicious and persuasive recruiting drive by Bodhi,” drawled Edwin. “They’re in need of fresh bodies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaelan winced. “Don’t think I put it in those words, Mr Wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do they want?” she asked Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oy, I’m still here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They want us to kill some vampires to clear the route,” said Jaheira, all business. She leaned forward. “Normally, I would insist such… quantity of beasts demands a high price tag. Recent circumstances, of course, change things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia nodded shortly. Amaunator’s sun weapons, and his jar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Personally, I would’ve rather hoped you could convince the Harpers into aiding us,” said Anomen, glaring sidelong at Gaelan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Life leads us on all sorts of paths, Helmite,” said Gaelan brightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Best life ensure we don’t meet again, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re matching the offer,” said Thalia. She exchanged a look with Edwin, who nodded shortly. “ ‘Those you have been asked to trust blindly in the dark spy as openly.’ ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t offer what I can’t offer,” said Gaelan with a shrug. “I’m just a messenger. But I do be knowing what manner of beast approached you. Aran won’t be letting this deal go and leaving him a stone, now. No one crosses the Shadow Thieves and lives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not letting you cross me again,” said Thalia bitterly. “And it looks like Irenicus still lives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaelan’s smile froze on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” asked Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irenicus hired them to kidnap us outside Baldur’s Gate,” said Thalia, not taking her eyes off Gaelan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mae’Var’s work. The man’s eating worms, now, thanks to you, girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Linvail took the job,” she snapped. “Head guildmaster, so Mae’Var said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaelan shrugged jerkily. “Mae’Var was a liar—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he didn’t lie. Not to me. Not then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaelan grimaced and stood, all illusions of cheer vanishing under cold eyes. “Yes, we took the job. And we would again. Mae’Var was the master one against it, one drake spitting sense in the chicken coop. Too much gold for a simple job. And, so he needed a bribe. His men went on it. He took the finder’s share. You killed the bastard. Past’s the past, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira stood with him, a haunted fury in her eyes. “Not all of us survived that little job, rat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your choice is between bad and worse, hero,” said Gaelan with a smirk. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t have to be made. Fifteen. A little vampire slaying. And you could be sailing to Spellhold before the tenday’s out. Aran Linvail’s final offer. Now, be smart and don’t you go making enemies you can’t kill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira glared daggers into his back as Gaelan Bayle left them. The doors closed behind him. The shadows and ceilings seemed empty of spies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s right,” said Jaheira shortly. “By Amaunator, we’ll make quick work of these vampires.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amaunator could also be our insurance, in case the vampires double-cross us,” said Thalia, avoiding her eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” The word burst from Anomen and Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia reluctantly took the chair Gaelan had just vacated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be serious,” said Jaheira, disbelieving. “Vampires know nothing of loyalty, of kindness. They are cruel monsters of the basest urge, the curse driving their very souls from their bodies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s worth a look,” she argued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen grabbed her attention and said, “These thieves are fouler even than I dreamed. There is no honour amongst them, as I’ve said before, </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> they are human. They came here because they are desperate. To them, we have value now. They need more than just our coin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia, I know that look,” said Jaheira warningly. “I want to save Imoen. I will avenge Khalid. But that is not the way, child. Tell me you will leave these vampires be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sighed but nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need your words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” she said. “I’ll leave the vampires. We’ll trust these thieves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira looked like she had more to say, but the doors to the Coronet opened again. Another thief stepped through. One that made Thalia’s blood boil. Yoshimo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin stammared a warning, but Thalia had already stood and crossed half the barroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been spying on us?” she demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo held his hands up, eyes wide. “Ah. Well. I was in the neighbourhood—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On rooftops?” she asked scathingly. “Dogging alleys? How much do the Shadow Thieves pay you? I’ve half a mind to knock your teeth out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me speak to the other half, then,” said Yoshimo gently. “Is it wrong to think that that wizard would fireball us all in our sleep if he could? That, when you wander off alone with him, it’d be best to keep a lookout?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia hesitated. Unwillingly, her anger shifted. No less vitriolic, but indignant instead. “I am tired of people misleading me because they </span>
  <em>
    <span>worry</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She turned and spat the last word in Jaheira’s direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo bowed shortly. “Lesson learned. Next time, I will latch to your side and be part of the resulting </span>
  <em>
    <span>fireball</span>
  </em>
  <span> that takes the street, four merchant stalls, a dozen commoners, and us both to the hells.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just, let me know you’re tailing,” she said grudgingly. “Don’t like feeling paranoid and then seeing I’m right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo’s gaze softened. “Ah, I can see, now. Apologies. I did not mean to give you a fright.” He glanced over the others. “I should’ve asked you before I went to Renal alone. I couldn’t help but overhear your encounter with Valen. A few words with Renal, and this princely sum lowered a little. Someone needed to kick those thieves into action.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted her acceptance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can go tell the Shadow Thieves we’re taking their offer,” said Jaheira, relieved. “Seeing as things are so cozy between you two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo beamed. “Whatever I can do, my friends.” With another bow he turned to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yoshi,” said Edwin coldly without looking up from the table, “how did you know the name of the vampire what approached us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia frowned, but Yoshimo didn’t even lose his smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She introduced herself. It was very brief. You likely missed it, Mr Wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She didn’t,” he insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo raised a gallant hand to Thalia. “I’m sure you remember it. It was just a moment. Missed, unless you were listening for such a thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia hesitated. Had the vampire given a name? She couldn’t quite remember. Of course, it could’ve. Thalia hadn’t been paying so much attention to the name of the hooded figure. Edwin’s confidence made her less certain. But why would Yoshimo be lying? He had no ties to the vampires. Even, he had ties to the Shadow Thieves, a debt to pay off. He might’ve mishandled it, telling the Shadow Thieves he would spy when he would anyway to look out for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure we just missed it,” said Thalia at last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo relaxed and thanked her, then left just the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia took the abandoned mug of ale Gaelan had left behind and drained it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin glared. “Have you spent your entire life contemplating every meaning of the phrase </span>
  <em>
    <span>subtle as a brick through a window?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course the spellfiddler would rather us covert with vampires and devils,” said Anomen scathingly. “Mere thieves are too worldly for your tastes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A devil might be more trustworthy. We even have a few spare souls to offer him,” said the wizard with a pleasant smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a threat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No arguing,” said Thalia, tired. “Both of you. We’re dealing with the Shadow Thieves. Yoshimo or Gaelan should come along eventually with a banal task or two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” said Jaheira. “Let’s play their game a little while longer. For now, we must consider what we could need in Spellhold. What foes might we encounter? Is it old and in need of repairs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Public reports on Spellhold are scant,” said Anomen, tearing his glare from Edwin. “Even among the Order’s records, the Cowled Wizards are stones on the topic. Since it still collects prisoners, I daresay we can expect an operational prison. None are ever released, so I would suspect extensive living quarters, cells—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Research laboratories,” said Edwin flatly. “There is no purpose to rounding up wizards, yet not killing them, except for experimentation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s eyes burst to the size of dinner plates. “You’re insinuating the Cowled Wizards are no better than wild necromancers in the woods? Kidnapping and imprisoning—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not insinuating. I’m outright stating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irenicus wouldn’t be contained long,” said Thalia in a small voice. The ale wasn’t enough and she set down the mug hard. “And he knew that. It’s why he went along. Now, he has access to those labs to…” She swallowed. “To begin again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do know Imoen is only bait,” said Jaheira softly. “He hurt her only as part of his plans against you. Keeping her safe, unharmed, and alive is in his best interests.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not necessarily. All he would need is us to believe she is,” said Edwin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t helping,” hissed Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shut her eyes and cursed every word that came out of the wizard’s mouth. He was right, of course. Irenicus had had an interest in Imoen, as obtuse as it was. He had tortured her independently of Thalia. And now he had had three months to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their path to Spellhold was clear, but she couldn’t trust the allies at their back, or what waited for them when the path ended.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Red in the Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Night fell and still no one appeared. Thalia spent the hours cloistered in her room once their planning had turned her stomach. Earlier in the day, Anomen had offered to spar with her, but her heart wasn’t in it. The bitter anger hadn’t entirely left her and the sparring reminded her too clearly of Khalid. Khalid had always weathered their brutal sessions — more working out her aggression than teaching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird kept her company regardless. Her fingers glided along the glossy black feathers. His contentment bled into her as they lay in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sunset crawled across the floor, dimming and casting them into darkness. Without touching them, Thalia lit the candles on the other side of the room. It was easy. Painless. A small spark. But that didn’t mean she was ready for Irenicus. For Him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doorknob twisted sharply, against the bolt. Thalia </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached</span>
  </em>
  <span> and undid it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew why he was here. She had expected him, even. All the hours of the day, she still hadn’t decided if she would go with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin didn’t say a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had armed herself ages ago. She placed the bird aside and latched on her gauntlets, slowly. Aurora burst into light at her touch, humming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viconia, too,” she said roughly. “And Haer’Dalis. If this goes poorly, I don’t want us to be alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin bristled at the command, but did as she said. She almost considered grabbing Yoshimo to have a second sun blade, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue with the wizard. Within minutes, the four of them had set off for the graveyard. Thalia hated how she almost reconsidered when she looked again at the company she kept. A drow. A Red Wizard. A tiefling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she had left behind the knight and the druid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t fair, of course. Viconia was a friend. Edwin, for his unpleasantness, was trustworthy. Haer’Dalis had his unsavoury quirks, but the least of which was his heritage. Being unfair didn’t stop her from feeling it regardless. The actor didn’t miss a thing and caught her eye. She turned from him, but his stare was already on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My raven, your compassion for those who refuse to let death take them is quite a thing to behold,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s practical, bard,” said Viconia before Thalia could answer. “The Shadow Thieves have declared themselves unworthy twice now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis waited with eyes sharper than arrows, digging into her back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t leave anything on the table that could help her,” she said in a low voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This Imoen, then, who is she to you?” he asked. “Baggage? A debt to be repaid? A </span>
  <em>
    <span>practical</span>
  </em>
  <span> and beautiful wizard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sister, in all ways that matter,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, so you do care for this wayward wren,” said Haer’Dalis thoughtfully. “How would you feel, I wonder, if our path leads us only to her grave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the night, his words hung dark and threatening. A thought Thalia had rarely put words to, but feared with every piece of her soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will avenge her,” said Thalia blandly. “It’ll be all I can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pity she would not be around to see such vengeance carried out in her loving memory,” said Haer’Dalis, a sad smile in his voice. “Should this girl be an indication, you seem quite fond of your companions. Those of us whose paths have crossed over the years, lives intimately intertwined with yours own fate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t form friendships easily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naturally,” he said with a nod. “This sparrow knows his numbers and figures and, daresay, there are at least two of our number missing here tonight. I shall consider my place at your side a compliment, my raven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His silly nickname reminded her of the bird, who appeared in a darkened shadow. The city almost covered the smell of brimstone. Thalia took a few tentative steps. Watching through the bird’s eyes made it difficult to move, but it became easier. The night exploded in shades of grey, darkness peeled back. She watched as the bird obeyed and scanned the alleys and roofs. None followed their close-knit group, though a few heads turned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bard,” began Edwin in tones that made Thalia wince, “my considered and correct opinion of actors is thus. You are irresponsible, irrational, and incapable of adult emotion without first reducing it to some banal personal, material, or sexual credo. My faintest hopes you were not included in this have been proven false.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis seemed amused by the display. “Have you not finer carrion to swoop upon, vulture?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard scoffed. “At least I don’t find it necessary to have others write my life for me or have its mundane plot plagiarized from common sources — or be led about by the nose like some mongrel pup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Haer’Dalis genially, “but you do seem to require my validation by spouting insults where fresh clean air once was. Dwell on that, if you would, vulture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia perked up as Edwin reddened and dissolved into muttered Thayvian insults. Haer’Dalis exchanged a private smile with Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The graveyard appeared abandoned. Thalia figured appearances to be deceiving, but Uncle Lester had vacated the premises. The bird took higher to the skies, an updraft lifting under his wings. Thalia could almost feel it in the still night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A solitary figure waited on the far end of the graveyard. As they entered, she made for them — fast and utterly silent. Thalia fell back into her own eyes as the vampire approached. Bodhi. She dressed in blacks like a thief, formfitting to her graceful figure. As a mortal, she had been an elf, but undeath had left her skin a chalky grey and her eyes a bloodier red than Viconia’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi appeared as if from the darkness. “You’ve come,” she said, her voice high and sultry. “I had worried I might have to discipline Valen for failing to deliver her message, but no. My name be Bodhi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Valen</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Perhaps the messenger had introduced herself after all. How else would Yoshimo have known it truly?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vampires make homes in graveyards?” asked Haer’Dalis. “Were all the local derelict castles taken?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled with a flash of white fangs. “Indeed, planeswalker. Here, we are least likely to be overheard. The city’s inhabitants find the graveyard… disarming. Once, the Nether Scroll protected our presence, but now rumour suffices.” Her eyes slid to Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is about time you’ve showed,” he snapped. “It is about too much, this creeping about graveyards at night, waiting on a nameless mistress’ every whim.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stepped into the light that bled from a tavern across the street. She was even more beautiful than Thalia had first thought. A delicate hand reached for the ruby amulet on Edwin’s neck, rubbing the gem. He glared down at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then wait no more,” she breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s hand stayed on Aurora, her heart in her throat. If she struck first, she might be able to kill the vampire. But, if she missed, if she forced Bodhi’s hand—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Follow me,” said Bodhi briskly, turning back into the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vampire led them through the graveyard, moving as a ghost through the mausoleums and markers. They ended at one in the center of the district, well-kept, beautiful masonry work. It would be the last place Thalia thought a vampire would make their nest in a graveyard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi stroked the door lovingly. “This is the entrance to the hold I offer you access. Oh, I am sorry, I’ve moved ahead of myself again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fifteen thousand. Access to Spellhold,” said Thalia in a hard voice. “The Shadow Thieves already would have us doing gruntwork. I’m here for a counter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are employed, of course, to run errands occasionally,” said Bodhi, fixing those uncanny eyes on her. “I would employ you — not </span>
  <em>
    <span>use</span>
  </em>
  <span> your fine skills, as though at my beck and call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not for hire right now. As soon as I’m back from Spellhold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi’s beautiful face twisted with a predatory anger. “I cannot work so closely with a stranger without ensuring loyalty. I will not risk my own — not even for fifteen thousand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You care a great deal about your bloodslaves, vampire,” said Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi didn’t even flinch from the accusation. “I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twenty,” offered Thalia reluctantly. “Twenty and you get us there without fanfare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Bodhi dropped the word like a stone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twenty-two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no price I could demand that would make me so foolhardily risk the lives of those who trust me,” she said with a smile. “Fifteen. And a few favours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No deal,” said Thalia. “I can already run errands for—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the organization who took the coin to kidnap you,” said Bodhi swiftly. She stepped forward. Her head barely came to Thalia’s shoulder, but she seemed taller. “Would you like to know what they were paid? What the cost of your freedom was? Imoen’s freedom? Khalid’s life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glared into the smile. “What do you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve an interest in Irenicus myself,” said Bodhi in a low voice. “Consider it a debt he owes me. This — This little dance with the blackhoods, it’s professional. I’ve spent months readying to topple the largest criminal syndicate south of Waterdeep. And I will win. But…” She stepped closer. “Irenicus is </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful,” said Thalia dryly. “Fifteen. No favours. If there is nothing else…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will go back to a sinking ship,” hissed Bodhi. “The Shadow Thieves will bury themselves in the sea. Those smart will join me in the end. And you will crawl back in a tenday, begging for deals that are long ash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” said Thalia. “You’re saying all the right words, but I can’t believe you mean all the right things. If you want Irenicus dead, put your war on hold. Come with me. Take the fifteen and we can go to Spellhold together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cunning flashed behind Bodhi’s eyes as they narrowed, but she shook her head. “I’ve worked too hard and too long on this. I can’t leave Athkatla before the Shadow Thieves are gutted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia turned her back on the vampire, hand on her sun blade, and kept a casual pace as she retreated from the mausoleum. Now, at least, they knew where the vampires hid out. Small profit for the danger involved. Bodhi hissed, a sound more beast than elf. It rattled through the air, following them like a curse. It rose the hairs on the back of her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems the vampire is all hiss, no fang,” said Haer’Dalis, disappointed as they made it back onto the main streets. “I am surprised you didn’t take the offer, my raven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I did, we would have to sell that to Anomen and Jaheira,” said Thalia darkly. “As far as they’re concerned, we never spoke to Bodhi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed,” said Viconia. She contemplated that with a foul look. “Bodhi believed she was the superior, doing us a favour. She would’ve dangled us on the lead until she was satisfied. The Shadow Thieves need us dearly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So long as your romantic infatuations with the underdog don’t lead us to the hells,” scoffed Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the underdog, rivvil,” said Viconia before Thalia could respond. “With the thieves, we still have power to bargain. Our skills have weight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All this intrigue and darkness in the night,” said Haer’Dalis with a grimace. “Romantic, yes. Thrilling, yes. Yet, this sparrow tires of layers of subterfuge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia nodded wearily. “I agree. I’d rather a straightforward battle myself. All this horseshit is giving me a headache.” She rolled her eyes. “And say nothing about my walnut brain, wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the glories of Thay,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tensed immediately. Edwin was afraid. That small tremor in his voice, the way it rose and breath hissed. She had heard it only once, when they had encountered other…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>… other Red Wizards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She followed his gaze. In the dark, their red robes almost glowed. Spindly glyphs covered their cloaks, shimmering like molten metal. Two wizards. A half dozen knight protectors, their armor bearing the same glyphs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had already seen them. Rather, they had already seen Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said a single word in Thayvian, one that required no translation as he blanched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” she agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not old friends from school?” asked Haer’Dalis in a stage whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prepare yourself, waela,” said Viconia with a grimace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that you, Edwin?” asked a Red Wizard gleefully as they approached. He was bald as an egg, his tattoos sharp and blocky. “What was I just saying?” he asked his fellows. “Tymora is smiling on us today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Degardan,” said Edwin tersely. His hands curled into claws at his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something was wrong. Worse, even than Thalia had first thought. He didn’t bow or extol titles and lavish praise, like he had the last time. Thalia kept half her sight in the bird — but there were no others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing to say? You’ve always been a verbose charlatan,” said Degardan. “Your maudlin skills barely manifest a cantrip, never mind magics worthy of your cloak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thay preserve us, did you know we were searching in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Neverwinter</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you?” demanded the other Red Wizard. “Excellent trail you laid. It had us busy for months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Superiors?” asked Thalia quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Edwin. The single word scraped its way out his throat. “Inferiors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This fictional world you live in must be a glorious place, Edwin. Shame we can’t all join you,” said Degardan. “Never once did we dream all we needed to do was ask about for a wizard. Wearing </span>
  <em>
    <span>red</span>
  </em>
  <span>, still.” His lip curled. “Appreciating the finer things in life, are we? Nevron is not yet asking for your head—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As the cambion,” said Edwin shortly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Degardan frowned, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia understood. Edwin had come to the conclusion there would be no other way out. They would have to fight. She grappled for the taint. It answered her call and blossomed with dizzying speed. The necrosis flung from her fingertips as pellets, ice black and jade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Degardan rose a shield over his knights a moment too late. The sickly black rusted through the armor and hunted for eyes. One screamed. Thalia unsheathed Aurora. The sudden sunlight made Viconia curse and the others shut their eyes. Steel wrung from Haer’Dalis’ sheathes and the battle was joined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three knights fell, blinded, in a pool of blood. Aurora hissed as she made contact with the magical plate armor, attempting to rip through. The other knights recovered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Portals opened behind them. Viconia chanted in a low drow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia fell into step alongside Haer’Dalis. He was an excellent fighter, she had to admit, always where he needed to be. Elegant, where she was brutish. He was a whirlwind of singing steel, blocks and parries almost indistinguishable from strikes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Red Knights fought with overlarge enchanted shields and swords. Their magic dented the air around them, enough of a repelling wind to turn battle in their favour. Fiends slavered in the air — above and behind. Thalia couldn’t risk a glance to see what sorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mistress, I can help! Oh, let me help. I’m ever so good at clawing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice rang clearer than it ever had. It rebounded against the walls of her mind like her own thoughts and Thalia stumbled a block. Haer’Dalis picked up her slack, turning their backs to put him against that knight.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been so long! </span>
  </em>
  <span>So long</span>
  <em>
    <span> since I’ve tasted fresh blood. Please, why can’t I kill? Shiny, shiny blood.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced and nodded her assent. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just don’t get yourself killed, bird.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird screeched as he dive bombed from his place high in the sky. She couldn’t spare half a mind to pay attention to him — to anything aside from the crashing swords of the knights. They carried magical trinkets. With a key phrase, their swords sung with lightning or poison. They moved like the wind, with abyssal strength, or shields propped up to deflect her necrosis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taste of blood spread heavy across her tongue. The bird’s joy sung in her heart. Ugly little bastard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The battle thickened with warrior shades — friend and foe. Thalia pulled Haer’Dalis from the thick of it. Aurora dimmed to a hilt. She belted the dagger. And gave herself over to the power. Only for a moment. It had never come so close in this plane. It thrummed with the beat of her heart, something so deep and pure — and impossible to ignore. Not murder. It had never been murder. It was not cruel or evil but natural. The most natural thing there was. It was the veil between life and death — perilously thin, fraught with grief and pain and passion — but something she knew more intimately than herself. And she was its master. Breath caught in her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, only a moment, it was beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smoke poured from her hands, thick and heavy, jade streaked with black. It had nowhere to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could give it somewhere to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia cupped her hands and let it flow. It came not in ropes but a stream so forceful it pushed her back. Her boots skidded on the stones. It streaked across the battlefield, an unstoppable beam, and it found the wizard. Degardan. And the other Red Wizard. And the last two Red Knights. And the storm of conjured fiends and elementals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia collapsed to her knees, shivering. Pain and pleasure wracked her body and the power vanished, leaving only a familiar heartbeat behind. The sour burn of blood dripped from her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence was a vast living thing, an oppressive beast hanging over them all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell the truth,” said Thalia hoarsely. “Edwin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… not a Red Wizard,” he said breathlessly. “Last year, they arrived expecting to transport you to Thay and… I had lost you. They stripped me of my titles for my failure. I fought my way free and decided to seek refuge in Amn. I could never imagine the Cowled Wizards would allow Red Wizards unfettered access to their cities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis offered Thalia a hand and supported her as they returned to the Copper Coronet. It all made sense now. Still, she struggled to think her way out of her thick mind. The bird was more coherent than her own thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mistress! I felt you in the light. Did you see me? Did I do well? Did I kill them all? I did well. You really should tell me I’ve done well. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Another voice rattled her mind and jerked Thalia to the present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, gods help us, what were you doing? Bring her here. What happened? Whose blood is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No fear, fretting hawk,” said Haer’Dalis smoothly. “Thalia and I were merely sparring ov’r by the docks. She tried to imitate one of my flashier spins and ended up falling, hitting her head on the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia blinked and found Jaheira’s yellow hawkish eyes in front of her, face creased with worry. Behind her, Viconia and Edwin slyly entered. Jaheira’s finger trailed in white light. A healing spell wove through her. It staunched the blood, but did little for her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird landed with an undignified squawk on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Long fall. Thanks.” Thalia smiled weakly. “Did I do well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird complained loudly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nevermind you! What about me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a story for the ages,” promised Haer’Dalis gravely. His eyes shone. “Something the gods themselves shall immortalize in the ballad of your life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia lost her smile. She had a feeling he wasn’t talking about their </span>
  <em>
    <span>sparring</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t have an accident,” said Jaheira, her voice pinched thin. “We’re so close, Thalia. Just a few more days, hold on. These thieves ought come by soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia nodded dumbly. Jaheira pushed a few drinks in her hands and wasn’t satisfied until she had finished them. The Shadow Thieves did not make an appearance. Haer’Dalis soothed Jaheira’s frayed nerves with a mournful ballad, one that wrung solemn tears. Wrung out, Jaheira retired with one more word of warning for Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already, it has been too many,” she whispered. “Don’t make me lose another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia mulled on that uncomfortably, the lies sitting hard in her gut like a stone as Jaheira left them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My radiant half-goddess, please, your sparrow cannot wait a moment longer,” said Haer’Dalis revenantly. “How do you feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced. “Awful. Exhausted. Torn, as if — hold. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Radiant half-goddess?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile crossed his face. “Only the truth do I sing. May there be anything I could do to ease your pains?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. The very motion made her feel ill. She lay a hand on the bird, leashing the two forms together. The barroom blurred as she struggled to only look through one set of eyes. He nuzzled at the touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you might entertain this bard, could I ask of this tainted blood in your veins?” he asked tentatively. His arm still slung behind her chair, though he did not touch her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shrugged indifferently. “As you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does Bhaal speak from beyond the grave? Tonight, he was might fortuitous and bountiful with his powers, but does he call in whispered urges of desires alien to your soft heart?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said slowly. She consulted her empty mug. “Not often. I’ve dreams, at times, and may lose myself in battle — as any warrior. Still, I manage well. It’s not so dramatic as all that. And he doesn’t ask for cinnamon.” She tipped the last drops to her lips. “He prefers cardamom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis didn’t seem disappointed. She found his eyes hard to tear away from — intense and inquisitive, with the same crease of concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Tis good to know your control is not an act put on for the watching world. These dreams, though. Do you expect one tonight? Do they trouble you often?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They used to be more frequent,” said Thalia, feeling her very words jinxed the night ahead of her. “Vague, mostly. Metaphor. Blood. Bhaal whispers some.” She nodded bitterly. “Leaves me afraid. I don’t want to become what I see — what I feel myself touch sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not fear,” he whispered softly. “Oh, my raven, fear not change or yourself, but only that what might bind you. Time moves on. And it oft does not ask permission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia longed to find solace and comfort in his words. He offered it freely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” She couldn’t pull back her own hollow disappointment. “I don’t want to be that… that… avatar of Bhaal and death.” But she fast saw explaining her fear to Haer’Dalis was pointless. The Doomguard would never understand. She stood. “I need to talk with our former Red Wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis sighed. “Very well. Until next our paths may cross.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia snorted. “We’re in the same inn, sparrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she returned upstairs, she dropped a few copper on the bar for a bottle of the cheapest elven red. Edwin did not open the door, but she managed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>reach</span>
  </em>
  <span> to open it herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not drunk. Not even on his way to it. A far worse hurricane of emotion held him in sober rapture. Anger, shame, frustration. He sat at the table by the window and didn’t even acknowledge as she entered and shut the door. He had cast off his robe into a puddle on the floor. Against his pallid olive skin, the black clothes suited him ill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia dropped the bottle next to him. “The Shadow Thieves protect you from the Red Wizards,” she said, sitting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said reluctantly. “They do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin rubbed a scar on the back of his hand. Pale white, it had been a tattoo in the shape of the fiendish griffin. His hands and wrists seemed rather bare, lacking the black ink. He had cast many spells in an attempt to beat his fellows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. Say something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have a thing to say anymore.” He uncorked the bottle and didn’t offer her a glass as he poured. “You know the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know your lies. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin drank, his eyes dark. “When believed, lies and truth are the same. When I lied among you, you were stupid and trusting enough to believe it. And, once more, in this most wretched country, I earned that red cloak. Only a Red Wizard may wear the colour in Thay, elsewise the pretender is executed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t say I’m sorry I wasn’t there when your superiors came to drag me to Thay,” said Thalia flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He poured a new glass, shaking his head. “I was not supposed to survive this mission. Alone. Sent without a Red Knight or even another Red Wizard. I was gifted tattoos in ceremony and glory — too many, now I know. The smoke of praise concealed their intent. I thought myself capable of this, but I was the only one. Either, I was to killed by whatever Bhaalspawn I found or, when I failed, I was to be excommunicated and summarily executed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spoke without passion, without anger or misery. It made it hard to wring any pity for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would they betray you, want to kill you?” Thalia smiled. “I mean, aside from being an arrogant rat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin found no humour. “Nevron. He misliked the tharcion having such a powerful conjurer in his own inner circle. Correctly, he suspected I would rival him in a few short years.” His eyes darkened. “You’ve no idea what your little disappearing act cost me. My own honour, my station, everything that kept my family and I secure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia blinked. “You have a family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I didn’t spontaneously burst into existence one cold night,” he spat. “Yes, I have parents—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you, perhaps, also have a younger sister in need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin scowled. “No. Two brothers,” he said unwillingly. “Younger. Stupid, as younger siblings are. And mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed that possessiveness and dragged a hand down her face. She knew the feeling well. Somehow, making Edwin lose his position didn’t seem so funny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I look forward to meeting them,” she said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirked. “All that resistance, all that stubborn fire, and you shall come regardless. Once there, you will always wonder why you fought so hard. After Spellhold, my lies will breed truth. I shall be restored for completing mine task alone. Nevron’s schemes will ashen and have to be forgotten in their failure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would go back?” she asked incredulously. “After they threw you out? Used you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As it so seems, we are to go back to the Shadow Thieves.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s different. I need—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I need the Red Wizards,” snapped Edwin. “It is what I am, where I belong. Red flows through more than merely my lifesblood. I don’t expect a wandering vagrant like you to understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia winced. It had been some time since his words had pinched her. “For what it matters,” she said stiffly, “I did not leave my home willingly. Not ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin was too proud to ever apologize, but she saw the regret itch in the corners of his mouth. “Once we have returned from Spellhold, whatever its outcome, you may blame me for dragging you further from whatever remaining pillar you call home. Ensure your blame is kept silent and contemplative.” He poured himself a second glass and downed it near as quick. “Fear all you want. In Thay, we shall have all we desire and more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what do I desire?” she said sarcastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “People are simple. What do you want? Others to respect you. A place to call your own. Power to ensure your independence and self-determinate path.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My blood—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He set down the mug of wine too hard. “Not for your blood, simpleton,” he said, lip curling. “You’ve had that same taint since the moment I met you — inches from death, barely able to cast a </span>
  <em>
    <span>battering ram</span>
  </em>
  <span> without collapsing. You have made yourself something…” The wizard shook his head. “Something noteworthy. Unique. Unheard of, outside of the fantasy of lies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A weapon,” she said hollowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin rose an eyebrow. “Is that such a terrible thing, truly? You won’t be locked away in an armory. You will be the spearpoint of the war-machine that is Thay, the blade that drives the fears of men. Death itself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A tool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A glorious weapon,” he said, meeting her eye with something akin to praise. Even envy. “Beautiful. Destructive. Unstoppable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and Haer’Dalis should compare notes on me sometime,” said Thalia dryly. “That’s not me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said the same thing over Gethras’ rotted corpse.” He inclined with the glass out the window. “You left four bodies as black slime on the streets with nary a look. Fear if you will, but who we are is mutable with our priorities. Some things are worth changing for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia flinched. Through dazed memories, she did recall that. The aftermath of that explosion of power — a beam of necrosis. Red robes, oozing an ichor none would’ve guessed as human flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to attempt to convince me such a feeling of raw power was somehow unsatisfying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said, looking to her empty hands. “That’s what frightens me. I had no idea what I was doing but…” She swallowed, unable to find words to put to the feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Power is something mortals have no concept of.” He set his drink aside. “Neither moral nor immoral, simply amoral. Its application is thus. Most are too stupid. Most will never know the feeling of raw creation, raw Weave strands in their fingers, begging to be played like a harp.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t creation,” said Thalia in a small voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Destruction,” said Edwin, satisfied. “I’m sure the Doomguard would host you a little philosophy lesson if you like, but your power is unique. Do not cringe when the multiverse rewards hard work — else it may decide to withhold next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was what she had wanted. All the while. She wanted the power to destroy Irenicus, the ability to match him — toe to toe. And it wasn’t as if she had killed commoners to get here. She hadn’t been some wild necromancer holed up in dens, stealing townsfolk to research. She had done good work and saved lives on the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would mean little, she knew, but it was a better road to travel than the alternatives. Maybe it could comfort her in dark moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she said heavily. “I just don’t feel very worthy of this sort of power. I’m just a human.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were never </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything,” said Edwin scathingly. He poured the mug full to the brim and took a long drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I’m a godschild—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cursed roughly in Thayvian. “You were never </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything the very moment you decided you weren’t,” he said, eyes hard. “You thought to be a conduit of Murder — long after you knew what flowed in your blood. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> choice. There is no such thing as destiny and fate. Only what we make for and of ourselves.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are all destined to die,” she said with a blithe smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glared over his glass. “Spend too much time with that tiefling and you are liable to grow horns.” Edwin sighed. “This is terrible wine,” he confided, drinking deeply. “It offends every level of my palate, as well as the dignity I spent insufferable countless years building among Thay’s nobility.” He drank deeper. “At least it is red.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia left the wizard to drink alone. His words about Thay haunted her as she retired to her room. Would it be so bad? There would always be war and it wasn’t like she didn’t like battles or would be opposed to being a soldier. Would it be terrible to learn to live </span>
  <em>
    <span>with</span>
  </em>
  <span> the taint rather than fighting it? She was so tired of being a fighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little voice in the back of the mind of something far greater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Power. Respect. A place to call her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Home</span>
  </em>
  <span> hadn’t meant anything to her for so long. It was the ghost of a childhood memory, dead and resurrected and killed again. Thay wouldn’t be home, she knew. Maybe, though, it could be a place to bring her peace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia drifted to sleep before her head hit the pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She awoke almost immediately — but not in the Copper Coronet. The ground felt rough beneath her, unfinished stonework. The night’s soreness alleviated in the dream. Grunting, Thalia pushed herself to her feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here we go again,” she muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bhaal’s twisted Candlekeep once more. She woke in the library’s basement and found her way to the main floor, an ocean of pure marble and quartz carvings. The shelves had been turned over, books left with broken spines and ripped pages into pyres never lit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A figure stood with his back to her, gazing out a window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Life… is strength,” He said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stiffened and reached for Aurora, but she wore no weapons here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irenicus turned back to her, dispassioned. “This is not to be contested. It seems logical enough. So long as you live, you affect the world. But is it what… you need? You remain different, inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised a hand and a golden dust whirled from the ruins of the once great hall. Thalia flinched, her hand tight on the door, but the magic never touched her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A woman appeared. Mature, a common woman in a roughspun dress and work apron, stained and well used. She stared blankly ahead, unseeing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This woman lives and has strength of a sort,” allowed Irenicus. “She lost her parents to plague, her husband to war, but she persevered. Her farm has prospered, her name is respected, her children are fed and safe. She lived as she thought she should. And now…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clenched his raised hand into a fist. The woman exploded into fragments of bone and flesh, the walls nearest and the left side of His face painted scarlet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... she is dead,” He said blandly. “Her land will be divided, her children will move on, and she will be forgotten. She lived a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> life but she was a slave to death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped forward. Thalia couldn’t help but lurch backward, even at the distance that separated them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irenicus cocked His head to the side. “I wonder if you are destined to be forgotten. Will your light fade in the shadow of greater beings?” His voice sharpened. “You are born of Murder, the very essence that which takes life. You’ve power, if you wish it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia steadied herself. It was a convincing replica, but it was not Irenicus. It was Bhaal wearing the mask of her memories, her fears. The taint given voice. As she realised it, the stage fell aside. The facsimile of Spellhold faded to an impenetrable grey mist that swirled about her ankles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irenicus’s features melted. Bhaal was shorter, his face crueler, eyes burning with the pride of a perfect predator and a fallen god.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are not enemies,” said Thalia, pressing forward. “So many times, I’d be dead if not for you. You’re not going anywhere — and neither am I. Somehow, we’ve gotta find a way to live with each other. I have accepted that now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you?” asked Bhaal, amused. “The consequences are so very real, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bhaal raised another hand and summoned another woman with a golden flare. Imoen. Imoen thrashed under an invisible grip, eyes bulging. Silent, but in agony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An illusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia snarled and tore her eyes away. Bhaal was already gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen screamed long into the black of night.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Candor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Every hour the Shadow Thieves did not come was agony. Yoshimo repeatedly assured them, of course, Linvail would help. Aran was a swell, well-to-do gentleman rogue. He knew how to do business. They all just had to work together to get the vampires out of the way. Linvail was drawing up a plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia was getting mighty sick of hearing what Linvail was up to. She followed Jaheira around the shops, instead. New harnesses for the unique sun swords and spear. A stocked medical kit, to prepare for any state Imoen might be found in. Rations. Jaheira was on the hunt for ingredients for some druid rituals — just in case. Jaheira’s mind wasn’t all there, as they perused their third herbalist of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Thalia had the uncomfortable feeling the bird was trying to look through </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No treats here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Go back to the left. No, no, right now. Hmm… Yes. Yes. Those ones. Pretty shiny ones.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She dipped her fingers into the metal beads. The bird sighed in contentment.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can’t eat metal, birdbrain.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not for eating. For treat.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had left the bird back in the Copper Coronet. She wanted to see how far she could go before the connection dampened. It was a stupid exercise, she knew. The fiendish raven had come from Bhaal’s plane, after all.</span>
</p><p>She bought the bird a few metal beads and slipped them in her pocket. He purred in her mind.</p><p><em> Only because you’re a good bird </em>.</p><p>“Where did you go?” called Jaheira from the other end of the shop. She came around the shelf, worried.</p><p>“Bird wants shiny things,” said Thalia, embarrassed. “I think he just wants to play with them — a spoonful was only two coppers.”</p><p>A perpetual frown creased her forehead. “Yes, alright. Just, don’t—” She grimaced. “Nevermind.”</p><p>“You were gonna tell me not to leave your sight,” she accused.</p><p>“And I didn’t. You’re a grown woman. My fears are mine to bear.” Jaheira’s eyes were downcast. “Come. I’m ready to leave.”</p><p>Thalia followed her back out into the bright sunlight. “I’m sorry,” she said, swallowing hard past the lies. “I didn’t mean to scare you when I came back that night, bloody.”</p><p>Jaheira waved a hand. “Argh, it happens. Many a friendly spar has left broken noses and worse. I remember…” Her voice softened with a sad smile. “I remember the welts you used to leave on Khalid.”</p><p>“Left worse on me,” said Thalia. She hesitated. “Promise, I’ll try not to die whatever comes next.”</p><p>“As do I,” said Jaheira with a sigh. She shook her head. “I spent so long fearing what might happen if you live, it hadn’t even occurred to me that you might die.”</p><p>The bird pecked wordlessly on the walls of her mind. It didn’t hurt, but the tapping irked her. Thalia walked slower next to Jaheira, seeing the street only faintly through the haze of the bird’s eye. She followed the tapping and slipped into his mind. The bird roosted in the barroom of the Copper Coronet. A nice beam ran high over the tables. Good for perching. Lots to see. Glass windows caught pretty lights — and those nice brass coffeepots—</p><p>
  <em> What is it? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The bloody one. The spear. He’s upset. I hope he’ll kill something good and dead. </em>
</p><p>The bird shuffled down the post. Last time he’d gone down below alone, the bartender had thrown a fit. Gotten a broom. Bird did not like brooms.</p><p>Anomen had been playing Yoshimo’s table game with him. At first, Thalia thought the messenger was a Shadow Thief. But Anomen had blanched, his mouth hanging open in horror.</p><p>“I-I-I’ll come. Tell Father I’ll be there at once. Immediately.” He scrambled from his chair and, dazed, hurried up the stairs.</p><p>Thalia ripped her eyes back to the road. “Something’s happened with Anomen,” she said to Jaheira.</p><p>Thankfully, they were only a few streets over and met Anomen outside the inn. His eyes were wide and white and lost. His cloak hung crooked. He had armed himself, but straps had been cinched unevenly. </p><p>“Moira’s dead,” he said blankly. “Murdered.”</p><p>Thalia felt his words like a kick in the gut.</p><p>Jaheira gasped. “Your sister? Are you sure?”</p><p>“Father… sent a messenger for me. He wouldn’t have unless…” Anomen shut his eyes and gathered himself. “Forgive me, my ladies, I—”</p><p>“We’re coming with you,” said Thalia in a voice that would hear no arguments. “Lead the way.”</p><p>Anomen’s eyes thanked her. They followed him into a quarter by the Government District, a sprawling manor gone to seed. The roof was in much need of repair and the crawling ivy couldn’t conceal the cracks. A housekeeper let them into what must’ve once been a beautiful house. A pool dominated the entry hall, burbling gently among wilted water flowers. Vases held flowers long dried.</p><p>“Where is he?” Anomen asked the housekeeper. “I don’t know you.”</p><p>She curtsied. “I’m new, my lord. The Lord Cor is… by the kitchens.”</p><p>“With drink?” </p><p>“Yes, my lord.”</p><p>Anomen grimaced and turned to Thalia and Jaheira. “My father is an unpleasant man even sober. If you would like, you may remain here.”</p><p>“Do you want us to?” asked Thalia quietly.</p><p>He didn’t say a word, but he indicated for them to follow. The kitchens could’ve cooked banquets for thirty, but not a single cook remained. Copper pots glowed above, burnished to a shine and forgotten to dust. </p><p>An older man sat on the table by the great barrel as he pulled a new tankard. By the smell, it wasn’t beer. He bore great resemblance to Anomen. The same sleek handsome dark looks, but teased with wrinkles and a salting of grey in the hair and beard. He had the same smile, too. Haughty and half a sneer.</p><p>“Well,” said Cor with savor. “The prodigal son returns, heir to his mother’s madness as always. Dragging lost strays. How far have you roamed, boy, running away from me?”</p><p>“Don’t you dare speak of my mother,” said Anomen through gritted teeth. “She deserved far better than you as a husband.”</p><p>“Yet I was,” he said, a fire in his eyes. “And your father, too. Never forget, boy! You mother would still be alive had you not driven her to an early grave.”</p><p>Anomen slammed a fist on the table. “Shut your mouth, drunkard! I won’t listen—”</p><p>Cor stood in a flash. They were of a height and, before Thalia could even think to move, he had struck him. “Respect your father, knightling. I am <em> still </em> the man of this family and you will obey me.”</p><p>Anomen put a hand his cheek and bowed his head. “Yes, Father,” he said dully. “I lost my temper and I apologize.”</p><p>Cor took a deep swig and turned his attention to them. “What’re these strays, then? Your Order takes whores? You always did like ugly girls following you around.”</p><p>“They are friends, sir. I would entreat you to not speak of them—” Anomen flinched, then flushed in embarrassment as Cor raised a hand but didn’t strike him again. “I’m here for Moira, Father. Please,” he said, voice thin with grief. “Tell me what’s happened.”</p><p>“She’s dead!” shouted Cor. He slammed his tankard on the table. “<em> Dead </em>, you stupid boy. Murdered by that Calishite fiend. Not enough for him to ruin my business, but he had to take Moira, too.”</p><p>“Saerk?” asked Anomen, confused. “How? Why would he—”</p><p>“He broke into our home, like a blackhood in the night. He killed her because he could,” said Cor. “Because—” He drained his tankard and refilled it from the spigot. “Because she was all I had left.” His voice warbled with the threat of tears.</p><p>“Where are the guards?” asked Anomen, gesturing back to the rest of the house. “The staff? Why was she not protected?”</p><p>“I’d no money.” A sob broke through his throat. “Saerk took his vengeance. Took everything I had left. Bankrupted me. Stole the business. The bank will come for the house soon enough. He took all of it—”</p><p>“He didn’t take it.” Anomen dragged his father from the cask. “You! You lost it, you old bastard. It was always you!”</p><p>“I lost it because you abandoned this family when it needed you most,” hissed Cor. “When I—” He bit his lip as tears streamed, thicker. “You ran away. <em> You </em>.” He jabbed a finger at Anomen’s chest. </p><p>Anomen stared, helpless. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know.”</p><p>“When Moirala died, we needed you,” he whispered. “The business needed an heir. Moira needed a brother. I needed a son.” He pushed him aside and drank deeper. “And now it’s too late. Far too late.”</p><p>“I should’ve been here,” said Anomen softly.</p><p>“Never forget that,” said Cor as a curse. “We can’t turn time. It’s too late for us, for the business, but mayhaps not for her.”</p><p>Anomen’s breath caught. “What can be done? She’s dead.”</p><p>“And her murderer lives. Please, son, put Moira’s spirit to rest. Do what you need. Borrow those puffed up stone knights. Put your blade to some decent use for once.”</p><p>“I…” Anomen turned from his father, tears in his eyes, as he paced about the table. “Where is she?”</p><p>“With Moirala.” Cor nodded into his drink. “I know you’ll do what you must. You were always good at avoiding your duty until it caught up with you.”</p><p>Anomen brushed past them. Unwilling to be left alone with his father, Thalia and Jaheira followed. He had returned to the pool and the vases of flowers. Two of the vases without, she realised, were urns. The scripts were unfamiliar, but could’ve been epigraphs. Anomen sat at the poolside. All stress and anger slid from his face. He felt very young all of a sudden.</p><p>“This isn’t how I wanted you to meet her,” he said, his eyes wet with unshed tears. He sighed. “Though the choice seems clear and right, I’ve never been less sure of anything in all my life.”</p><p>“That uncertainty is called a conscience,” said Jaheira somberly. “It pains me to know of your sister’s passing, but the blind killing of a merchant is not a solution to your grief.”</p><p>“Are you the only one allowed to seek vengeance for a murdered love one?” demanded Anomen.</p><p>“Outside city confines and law, yes. None will deal with Irenicus but us—”</p><p>“He’s locked away in Spellhold,” he snapped. “Taken care of. And yet you’re not finished with him, by your husband. The love you shared demands its own justice.”</p><p>Jaheira couldn’t look at him. “Cities divine laws and courts to deal with these matters. If Saerk had done this, wouldn’t he be held responsible? You father seems certain, but, forgive me, does not seem the most stable.”</p><p>“Father spent years humiliating Saerk. Undercutting him. Driving him out of every market he dipped his toes into. Robbed him blind. Turned each business Saerk had into stones.” Anomen raised a hand to the newer urn. “This is Athkatla. Saerk’s wealth will ensure he never sees court.”</p><p>“Don’t turn yourself into a murderer,” said Jaheira softly. “Can’t imagine the Order would appreciate it, or Helm.”</p><p>Anomen choked on his argument and he retracted his hand from the urn.</p><p>“Thalia, help me,” said Jaheira with a groan.</p><p>Thalia folded her arms and leaned against the wall.</p><p>Slowly, it dawned on Jaheira. “No,” she whispered. “No. No, don’t.”</p><p>“It’s exactly these sorts of situations my mettle is to be tested truly,” said Anomen, so quietly he seemed to speak to himself, though his eyes latched to Moira’s urn. “It is not so much the Order. My vows mean nothing if I cannot keep them when it is hard to do so. Forgive me.”</p><p>“Priorities,” said Thalia grimly. “We all want things. Some, we want more than others. Love or honour. I won’t make that choice for another.”</p><p>Anomen bowed his head and he let a few tears spill. He scrubbed them. A red welt began to rise on his cheek from where his father had struck him. “Jaheira, I will see you later tonight at the inn.”</p><p>“Anomen—” She reached a hand to comfort him.</p><p>“Get out of my house.”</p><p>“Please, there is—”</p><p>“Get out, you half-breed whore,” he shouted.</p><p>Jaheira stared at him in shock. “Apples don’t fall far from the tree, do they?” she asked coldly, but she took her leave, slamming the door behind her.</p><p>“That was uncalled for,” said Thalia.</p><p>Anomen turned on her, face twisted with anger and grief. “You first told me my courtesy was a lie.”</p><p>“Jaheira didn’t mean you harm.”</p><p>“She meant for my sister’s murderer to walk away unpunished.”</p><p>Thalia glared. “I won’t take responsibility for this. This is your choice, Anomen, and I’ll stand by you, whatever you choose, but I won’t influence you.”</p><p>“Thank you,” he said stiffly. “Now, couldn’t <em> she </em> have done that?”</p><p>The roads of Athkatla, despite drenched in the sunlight of high noon, felt exposed. Judgemental. Aurora hung heavy and uncertain on Thalia’s belt. Anomen knew Saerk’s home and, to her surprise, was the one who suggested breaking in on the top floor. Wooden scaffolds clung to the outside of the opulent manor house. Even in armor, they were easy to climb. The bird showed off his wings and he waited at the top door for them.</p><p>“Thalia,” said Anomen uncertainly. “I hate to bring it up, but you aren’t here because of your… nature, are you? This isn’t murder?”</p><p>Thalia grunted as she hefted herself over another bar. Anomen gave her a hand and pulled her upwards.</p><p>“Like most things, that’s not easy to answer. Saerk killed Moira to hurt your father, for business. I call that murder. This — This is justice.” She shrugged. “Jaheira likely thinks it’s my nature. Don’t take it personal.”</p><p>“I do,” he said darkly as he climbed over the balcony.</p><p>The door was engraved, set with lapis lazuli and blue glass in mosaics. Anomen pulled at the door and smiled grimly. Who would lock the balcony door on the third floor? Thalia held Aurora at her side, but did not draw it. This was right, she knew. It was what she would do. In that, she and Anomen shared an understanding. Imoen. Moira. The duty of the elder sibling. Gorion and Sarevok, even. Still, the deed would be grisly. </p><p>The house was beautiful within, shimmering with marble and expansive woven rugs. The mosaic continued across the circular room, a chandelier hanging high above. Anomen knocked aside a bust statue and it shattered.</p><p>“Steady on,” she urged him.</p><p>“How can I?” he demanded. “How can I, knowing what monsters I left her exposed to? Not my father. He was the least of all our worries. He—”</p><p>“Well, what well-dressed burglars.”</p><p>Anomen spun and drew Candor. The sun spear burst into radiance, its light reflected a thousandfold by the chandelier. “Come, then, fiend, and prepare to face righteous justice.”</p><p>“I see that old lizard Cor has sent his whelp to deal with me after all,” said Saerk. He was a man of age with Cor, greying, but more weasley. He drowned in the fabric of his robes.</p><p>“Keep my father’s name out of your filthy mouth!”</p><p>“I’ll say what I wish in my own house,” said Saerk, a glint in his eye. “And I’ll take any opportunity to strike at Delryn — this little one all but fallen into my lap.”</p><p>“So you admit it?” said Anomen. Breath hissed through his teeth. “You murdered Moira Delryn?”</p><p>Saerk laughed. “I admit nothing! I’ve carved out Cor Delryn’s heart, his pride, his business. I’ve ruined him. You’ve always been so handy in that, boy. A loose thread, each pull jerking at Cor. Soon, you and your blubbering tears shall be able to join your sticky whore of a mother—”</p><p>Thalia was sure she was the only one who heard it. Anomen screamed his mother’s defence, but a much smaller voice behind them tentatively whispered, “Father?”</p><p>A girl, still round in the face from childhood, but aging. Her dark hair bound in braids. There was no door, only strings of crystal beads separating the rooms. Eyes wide as saucers stared through.</p><p>“Ah, Surayah,” said Saerk. “Come here, girl. Some burglars, thundering in. We’ll defend ourselves, it’s only right. Some fiendish brat is rotting in her grave.”</p><p>Anomen turned to see who Saerk spoke to, teeth bared in rage. The girl tiptoed along the edge of the room, but Anomen grabbed her by the arm. She cried out.</p><p>“Anomen,” said Thalia warningly, but he didn’t seem to hear her.</p><p>“No!” screamed Saerk. “Fine! V-Very well, Delryn, you’ve made your point.”</p><p>“You spit on the memory of my mother and sister,” snarled Anomen. “You spit on my pain, like you’ve never felt it. It’s your turn.”</p><p>Thalia drew Aurora. Their shouting had attracted the footsteps of guardsmen. The bird burst in a black cloud and swooped down the stairwell. Guards had roused themselves, frantic. They argued in words the bird struggled to understand. Three doors blocked their path. Thalia <em> reached </em> and ached with it, but latched the bolt from the inside through the bird’s eyes.</p><p>“Anomen, we have moments,” she said. “Let the girl go and go kill Saerk.”</p><p>“Please,” said Saerk desperately, “I beg you, don’t hurt her. She’s my daughter!”</p><p>Surayah twisted in Anomen’s grip. The sun spear shortened, no more than a dagger pressed to her throat.</p><p>“Everyone has family,” shouted Anomen, sounding just as pained. “What makes yours so much more precious than mine? She was innocent!”</p><p>There was a wild look in his eyes. One Thalia had never seen before. It frightened her deeply, more than the encroaching battle. Saerk was one thing. His daughter was quite another. And Thalia suddenly understood the fear Anomen had of the anger inside him.</p><p>“Anomen!” she shouted again and finally grabbed his attention. “Let the child go.”</p><p>Surayah screamed and blood began to flow.</p><p>“Whatever you want,” begged Saerk, “please, take it. Gold, jewels, contacts. Anything Cor wants. Please, just don’t kill my daughter!”</p><p>“I… I want…” Anomen shuddered with something Thalia was far more familiar with. A pain without answer. A dagger so sharp it dragged each breath and each heartbeat.</p><p>“You want your sister back,” said Thalia in a measured voice. “But, you can’t. And, so, revenge will have to do, but not on an innocent child. You are better than that, Anomen.”</p><p>Anomen panted like he had already fought the battle. Surayah whimpered in his grasp. Suddenly, he grunted and the girl screamed. Candor flashed to its full length and he hurled it. The spear shot through the air like a javelin and it pinned Saerk to the far wall.</p><p>“Father!” screamed Surayah.</p><p>Anomen threw her aside and drew a dirk from his belt. Thalia held the child back. This was something Anomen needed to do alone. And she saw another battlefield, torn with bodies and blood. Sarevok, on his knees, his even stare. Thalia, a dagger in hand. A new adult who had to kill her parent’s murderer. Sarevok knew. He understood. He had done the same. In the end, he surrendered to it.</p><p>Some understood. When love and honour warred, love won and it demanded ugly things sometimes.</p><p>Surayah screamed and struggled against Thalia as her father bled. Anomen tore his spear from the body and Saerk crumbled, dead. Thalia let the girl go and she ran to her father, whimpering nonsense and dead hopes. Her hands shook. Her cries filled the air, rebounding off the stone until a hundred children screamed.</p><p>In ten years, perhaps Surayah would find them.</p><p>Anomen smiled. “There. For good or ill, it’s done. You’re right. This was my decision and not your responsibility. I thank you, though.”</p><p>“The guards will be here any moment.”</p><p>He readjusted his grip on Candor and took the shield from his back. “Let them come.”</p><p>“I was meaning we should leave,” she said sharply.</p><p>“They’re involved,” he insisted. The more he spoke, the more sure he seemed. “Do you think Saerk killed Moira alone? Do you think he didn’t send one of them after her?”</p><p>Anomen brushed past her and unlocked the first door. Not far off, the guards thumped against the bolted door. They had almost made it in time. Thalia winced and followed. The battle would be nothing to enjoy, though that did not put a dent in Anomen’s spirits. The guards were trained, but not like them. They bore decent arms and armor, but nothing like Candor or Aurora. None wielded magic.</p><p>It was a bloody slaughter.</p><p>Thalia reviled the pleasure she took in their victory. A dozen, then two fell at their hands. Anomen was a magnificent warrior, an artist of one colour only. Passionate and furious and deadly. He seemed to react to things before they happened. And he was <em> strong </em>. Gods help them, he was strong. With borrowed sword, he took more than one head clean from the shoulders. </p><p>The fight drifted back into the room where Saerk’s corpse remained. Those surviving guardsmen fought with new fervor, hurling curses and insults. Thalia caught a parry and led the man astray. Aurora slid through chain like water, emerging bloodless even as the floor reddened. </p><p>And, then, quite suddenly, there were no more.</p><p>Thalia and Anomen stood amongst a pile of corpses — a smithy worth of armor and steel proven useless, decades of combined experience insufficient against them. Victorious. </p><p>Anomen wiped the blood from his face. “Time to go, I believe.”</p><p>Thalia nodded, breathless, when she saw a new corpse among the others. Smaller. Unarmoured. A pale blue dress and dark hair in braids.</p><p>“Oh, fuck,” she whispered.</p><p>Surayah. Saerk’s child had gotten caught up in the fighting.</p><p>“She came at me,” said Anomen, too quickly. “In the heat of battle. She must’ve taken a sword from a corpse. It was instinct — an opponent with live steel on a battlefield.”</p><p>Thalia was no one to judge the accidental murder of a child. She had awoken from a nightmare to find Duke Eltan’s young daughter, cold and bloodless, in her arms. A silly angry child caught in battle? Tragic, but expected in its tragedy.</p><p>“Let’s go tell your father about Saerk.”</p><p>It was a continued testament to Athkatla that none questioned the state of two sweaty bloody mercenaries and let them pass with nary a word. Anomen walked with his shoulders proud and chin up, but he was miles away. Thalia did not know how to reach him, or if she even should. It was Imoen, always Imoen, who was best at these things.</p><p>There was nothing to say until they returned to his father’s manor. Cor seemed only drunker, his eyes reddened with tears and drink.</p><p>“Have you done it?” he asked hoarsely. “Saerk? Is he dead?”</p><p>“Moira’s spirit will rest easy,” said Anomen in a quiet voice.</p><p>Cor threw himself at Anomen, heedless of the blood. “Oh, my son! Thank you. You’ve grown into a man in your absence. I’m so proud of you.”</p><p>Anomen trembled, but did not break. Nor did he return the hug. “Thank you, Father.”</p><p>Cor pulled back and held his son’s face gently. “Would you return to stay with me now, my boy?”</p><p>“I’d like to, but I’ve duties that call to me.”</p><p>He sighed. “You were always a willful child.”</p><p>“Willful?” asked Anomen, surprised. “I rather thought you preferred <em> disobedient </em>.”</p><p>“Same thing.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes. “Aye, much like Neverwinter and Athkatla are both cities of the coast.”</p><p>Cor grimaced. “Perhaps I have not chosen my words with care over the years. And, perhaps it is too late, for us, but…”</p><p>Anomen did not take the bait. He readjusted his sword belt and forced a smile. “Then, if that is all, Father, I will… I will visit my sister once more before leaving.”</p><p>Cor drifted back to his drink without a word, waving a distant hand of acknowledgement.</p><p>Thalia did not begrudge Anomen whatever he thought he needed. He sat alongside the pool, next to his sister’s urn, until the sunlight streaking through the windows turned orange and the shadows long. Blood and sweat dried dirty and sticky, an unpleasant reminder of the day. Neither spoke a word.</p><p>“I’ve… I’ve done something most heinous,” whispered Anomen, his voice barely above the flow of the water. “An unarmed man. A child. This business has left the taste of ash in my mouth. I’ve defended your memory, our family’s honour, but cannot shake the feeling I’ve betrayed the Order.” He shook his head. “Whatever face Cor wants to wear now, it will not last. I’ve dreamt of the Order stealing me and you away from him for… years. Since before Mother died.”</p><p>He had taken the urn from its spot into his lap. His gauntlets lay aside and he stroked the porcelain with his fingers.</p><p>“Thalia,” he whispered.</p><p>She stirred herself from the corner. “I thought it was a private conversation with your sister.”</p><p>“I need someone to answer me. For all my love… she won’t,” he said simply, tears in his voice again. “Helm does not answer so directly either.”</p><p>“You made a choice,” she said, sitting back again. “The evil of letting your sister’s murderer go unpunished or the evil of killing a civilian. Some choices don’t have right answers. If it helps, it’s what I would’ve done.”</p><p>“That monster never would’ve paid for Moira. But… I gave into my great hate so easily, even enjoyed it. Taking his life.”</p><p>“I did not kill Sarevok in battle,” said Thalia slowly. “The man who killed my father. We battled, yes. But it was won. I had him on his knees, disarmed. The gallant, honourable thing to do would be to let him walk away — to imprison him, let the law have him answer for his crimes. He had wounded more than just me.”</p><p>Anomen glanced up, blinking. “You killed him?”</p><p>“I killed him. I enjoyed it. And it left me hollow and cold and bitter — because Gorion was no less dead. But I couldn’t have lived with myself if I hadn’t killed Sarevok. And, so, I’ve found a way to live with this.”</p><p>“How?” he asked, so lost and sincere.</p><p>Thalia sighed. “Love her. Treasure her memory. Know you will miss her for the rest of your life, but you did right by her.”</p><p>“You would’ve loved Moira,” said Anomen weakly. He stroked her urn. “She is… was so full of life, so passionate. A sharp mind. Kind heart. Stubborn. Brought more than one injured bird into the kitchen to scare the cooks.”</p><p>The bird appeared, more gently than he had before, a gliding ghost. He landed and hopped across the marble to sit beside Anomen.</p><p>“What is it?” he asked her. “What does it want?”</p><p>“He’s part of death. He’s…” Thalia struggled to find a word to accompany the bird’s content feeling as he inched towards the urn. “He’s mourning.”</p><p>Anomen hesitated, but let the bird edge closer. He settled, quiet and almost respectful, next to the urn. The low purr echoed in the room and her mind.</p><p>A sharp hand knocked on the front door. The housekeeper roused herself and opened the door to reveal Keldorn. Thalia was suddenly very aware both her and Anomen were covered in dry blood.</p><p>“I know the son,” said Keldorn to the housekeeper, looking over her to Anomen. “I’m here on behalf of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart.”</p><p>Anomen threw him a scornful look. “I’m in no mood for a job today, sir.”</p><p>“I asked for the honour to bring you for your trial,” said Keldorn. His voice didn’t give away a thing, but he had come armored. A heavy sword hung at his back.</p><p>“Truly?” asked Anomen tentatively. He set aside the urn, which the bird hovered over. “I-I didn’t expect my trial for some months still.”</p><p>“In light of your recent duties, Sir Ryan Trawl has petitioned an early appraisal.”</p><p>Anomen scrambled to his feet. “Well, Sir Keldorn, I would consider it an honour to return with the Order and receive my knighthood. May I bring Thalia, as a witness?”</p><p>“You may,” he said stiffly, “but I would hold at asking your father as well.”</p><p>Keldorn turned, expecting them to follow him. Anomen’s nostrils flared at the mention of Cor and he reddened to the roots of his hair. Anxious, Thalia followed and lay a hand on him. He let her.</p><p>“They don’t know,” said Anomen out of the corner of his mouth. “They can’t know.”</p><p>Thalia looked at him. “We weren’t exactly subtle.”</p><p>“We didn’t sign our work.”</p><p>The headquarters of the Order seemed oddly empty for late evening. As if the very building had, too, fallen into mourning. The oppressive respect pressed onto her shoulders, the combined eyes of the righteous gods watching.</p><p>Keldorn led them into a side chamber, where he ascended a high table alongside the prelate. It was quite a large room, but empty save for the high table. Keldorn introduced them as other high-level paladins, and Sir Ryan Trawl, the man in the center.</p><p>Anomen dropped to a respectful knee. Thalia attempted the same, but Keldorn smiled thinly.</p><p>“If you intend to bare witness, you may sit.”</p><p>Thalia took a chair. There should’ve been room for dozens. This — a trial, a knighting — it should’ve been a momentous celebratory affair. Other friends, extended family, other knights who had been along on his journey. No one. None but her. Keldorn knew there to be more than her in their company, yet hadn’t asked him to fetch the others. Anomen’s eyes, bright with tears all day, had brightened with fonder tears, but no less desperate. He needed the outcome to be positive. Through his suffering, he needed a victory.</p><p>“Declare yourself and your intent,” said Keldorn.</p><p>“I am Anomen Delryn, squire to Knight-Cavalier Ryan Trawl. By the patronage of Helm the Watcher, I have entered the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart to seek knighthood, a righteous brotherhood to protect the weak.” He stood, but kept his gaze respectful.</p><p>“Anomen Delryn, son of Cor and Moirala,” said Prelate Wesselman, “do you stand before us and declare yourself pure of heart? By your own reckoning, are you ready to swear the vows?”</p><p>Anomen shuffled from foot to foot. “Yes, my heart is pure, sir. Each day with the Order, I have improved. I have ways to go, but I believe Helm will judge me justly.”</p><p>Sir Ryan Trawl raised his head. “Are your actions laid bare? Shall I judge you as I myself have been judged?”</p><p>“My past and self are laid bare before you.” He took a deep breath. “Sir, I am ready to be judged. I beg for it.”</p><p>“Let me answer your prayers, then, son,” said Sir Ryan Trawl.</p><p>Thalia thought Anomen missed the grim note in his voice.</p><p>Sir Ryan Trawl stepped from the high table and tipped his hands and face to the ceiling. “May the spirit of Helm enter this chamber!” he called. He lowered his voice and eyes to his squire.  “Anomen, if there’s a thing you need to say, any weight at all to lift from your spirit, speak.”</p><p>“All my life I’ve dreamed of this day and becoming a knight is the culmination of those dreams. Helm can judge me,” said Anomen stonily. “He will not me wanting, sir.”</p><p>Sir Ryan Trawl brought his hands together and a pale silver light emanated from them. It formed an upright gauntlet. The hand clenched. The light glowed brighter and brighter, drowning out the flames of the braziers and bathing the hall in silver.</p><p>An eye blossomed on the back of the hand. It blinked. Once. Twice.</p><p>And it shut.</p><p>The light went out.</p><p>“No,” said Anomen, a small strangled cry in the back of his throat. “No! I defended her. I defended—”</p><p>“Vows only describe men,” said Keldorn. “They do not create them.”</p><p>“You and your damned words, old man,” shouted Anomen, his voice echoing back at them. “I’ve listened to you all these years, you self-righteous preacher. You’ve never known a day of hardship, of pain. After all these years I’ve slaved away for you! To the hells—”</p><p>Thalia leapt from her chair and put her over Anomen’s as he reached for Candor. The grip on the hilt tensed, but none seemed to take note of the threat.</p><p>Sir Ryan Trawl returned to the high table. “You have been judged by your sworn god, Helm the Watcher, and found wanting,” he said. He met Anomen’s eye unflinchingly, but they were not words that gave any pleasure to speak. “You have betrayed his trust. When the time came to watch, you were blind. When the time came to speak, you lied. When the time came to stand, you knelt. When the time came to protect the poor, injured, and young, you killed them.”</p><p>“How did you know?” burst Anomen.</p><p>“Helm told us to test you tonight, after all your years of begging to be judged,” said Keldorn gravely. “None here wanted the outcome.”</p><p>“You fought in ignorance and pride,” continued Sir Ryan. “Your weapons were dulled when the challenge came and the blood spilled is on your head. Your name was called and you did not answer. You are not pure. You are not loyal. You are no protector. You are dead to the children of Helm. Now, go and die to all others.”</p><p>The cruel words stole Anomen’s vitriol. He stared, hopeless, gobsmacked. The grip on Candor slid off and Thalia breathed a sigh of relief. She could share his sorrow later. Now, they needed to leave before he found his fire again.</p><p>“On behalf of the Order,” said Keldorn, “we apologize for Moira’s—”</p><p>Anomen ripped Candor into being and took aim. “You keep that name out of your—”</p><p>When Aurora met Candor, a sickening shriek echoed in the hall. Anomen’s shoulders slackened and the spear lowered.</p><p>Thalia shook her head slowly. “Draw blood here and we both die. I <em> would </em>die for you, you know. And I would here. Don’t make me die like this, my friend.”</p><p>The paladins on the high table paused, each reaching for their own steel. Thalia hated them for what they had to do, but she couldn’t help but respect it. They hadn’t wanted to throw him out. They didn’t want to fight him — to kill them. But they would. </p><p>“There are no gods of men,” declared Anomen coldly. “None that understand what it means to be mortal. There are no laws, nothing watchful, nothing that guards the innocent from the foul. There are only men and their whims. Chaos. And I am one of them.”</p><p>Candor vanished and he stalked out. Relieved, Thalia raised a grim hand in farewell to the paladins and followed.</p><p>“I can’t believe it,” he kept saying in a dim voice. “I can’t believe it. Surely — of course Keldorn doesn’t understand. Trawl. The prelate. But <em> Helm? </em> The Watcher. Guardian of innocent. I defended her — the innocent. I can’t believe it. All my life, slaved for the Order, for Helm, and now I am cast aside like garbage.”</p><p>“Is — Could you be judged again?”</p><p>“No,” he spat.</p><p>Thalia floundered for something to console him with. “All we can do is try to look ahead and move on.”</p><p>“Perhaps,” he said darkly. “Perhaps I should slaughter the whole lot of them.”</p><p>The menace in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. So long as he continued down the roads to the inn and didn’t look to turn back, Thalia didn’t argue. He felt delicate, liable to explode at any moment.</p><p>Jaheira awaited them in the barroom. Anomen shoved past her and planted himself at the bar. Before either could say a word, he tossed a silver to the barmaid and swallowed down a strong drink. And another. He spluttered, coughing and retching, but downed a third.</p><p>Jaheira stared, wordless. “What… What happened?”</p><p>“Mind your own business, tree-bitch.”</p><p>Thalia sighed and pulled Jaheira into a private room. She loathed to leave Anomen alone in such a situation, but Jaheira would find out. Spellhold, with Anomen in this state, could be dangerous. Having him in any battle now could be a terrible idea.</p><p>Thalia told Jaheira the highlights — Saerk, Helm’s judgement, banishment from the Order, Anomen’s dark words. She left out Saerk’s daughter’s death. That, she suspected, Anomen would take to his grave.</p><p>Jaheira paced, grimacing. “You led him down this.”</p><p>“As you led me down vengeance for Gorion,” said Thalia absently. “He would’ve gone on his own and gotten himself killed. Several times. What’s done is done now.”</p><p>“Amaunator warned us of this,” said Jaheira. “The god knew something was coming for Anomen, a test of sorts, and his true nature would see him fail it. Candor.”</p><p>“Are you dwelling on that?”</p><p>“Shouldn’t I?” she demanded. “Mixed up in gods and prophecies as we are, perhaps it is smart.”</p><p>“A light that banishes the dark,” said Thalia with a forced smile, recalling the sun god’s words to Jaheira. “Or just paranoid.”</p><p>“<em> A new day dawns — </em>just for the godschild growing powerful and willful.”</p><p>Thalia sat down and wished she had better words to give or any argument to give. She could argue the truth until dawn came. Neither would believe it. She stayed silent and, eventually, Jaheira left.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Those Who Harp</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thalia kept an eye on Anomen from a distance. Someone needed to. One night of drinking turned into three. He drank, not much but a great deal for someone who never had before. He argued with strangers, started fights, hired prostitutes. He vomited more than once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the third night, Thalia took the open spot at the bar next to him and bought herself a drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want?” he grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To ensure my friend doesn’t drink alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen grunted again, weak against a perpetual hangover he fought. He beat it back. He drank faster than she could even think to catch up with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me,” he ordered. “Tell me of your struggle.” He grimaced in a very self-satisfied way. “I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>courteous</span>
  </em>
  <span> enough to not mention it, but suppose that was a lie, too. Bhaal’s in your actions. Yet, you are not abandoned to it. This rage, you fight the evil in your heart?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shrugged. “Yes,” she said, seeing no point to argue against. “Of course I struggle. I do what I must to fight it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen snarled and she felt his anger burning. Thalia loosened her shoulders. She could take a drunken brawl — had expected it, in a sad sort of way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Things are that simple for you, are they, </span>
  <em>
    <span>my lady?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he said meanaly. “A whirlwind struggle against the evil inside is chalked up to </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying harder</span>
  </em>
  <span>? If only the world were so easy. Nothing — no god, no divinity, no perverse half-god freak — nothing with a drop knows what it’s like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Had you understood, you wouldn’t have abandoned me to it!” He stumbled backwards from his stool and stood, pointing a meandering finger. “You’d stand at my side — against the Order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t about to let you get yourself killed!” she shouted. She shoved him away from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nine-damned whore, you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who has done this?” asked a slick voice. Viconia. “By all the unholy spiders, jaluk, this is a delightful sight. Who has been the one to finally cut you down to size? Much like your father inside—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viconia, no,” started Thalia, but it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen reached for his belt, but years of instincts couldn’t be overcome in days. He wore the magical sun spear, rather than a sword. A few spare moments made him fumble the grip. Thalia’s hands wrapped around his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She didn’t mean it,” insisted Thalia. “She’s a drow — testing your mettle. Let her go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of us just aren’t as strong as that,” he whispered. Tears glistened in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, Anomen’s hands weakened and slipped off the weapon. He collapsed back against the bar. Thalia dragged Viconia away and threw another copper at Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t need reminding of that,” hissed Thalia. “Whatever else he is, he is our friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia wrinkled her nose. “No friend of mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night and worse days had burned away Thalia’s patience. “Pretend, then. Be civil. You fight together, travel together, might die for each other. Don’t treat each other’s scars callously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia absorbed that unwillingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the night wore on, Haer’Dalis could be found where he always was: in the middle of everything. Melancholy had been shed for a carefree joy the actor wore well. Anomen was the only drunk to not clap in time or holler in tune to the song. Haer’Dalis flitted like a pixie, leaping from table to table. His latest verse ended to thunderous applause. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The hour is late. Humans require sleep,” said Viconia absently to Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And elves don’t. Perhaps we should spend more time together, in the night.” Thalia drank from her tea. It was a noxious combination of herbs intended to keep sleep at bay. “And, no, that was not a proposition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Viconia hesitated. “We are allies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Friends</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in drowspeak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “Yes, Viconia, we are allies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia returned the smile, a bizarre expression on her face, even if only for a moment. Reserved, cold, but not calculating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira dodged Anomen’s newest tides of insults and curses. Thalia could do nothing but shrug in apology.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did Linvail send word?” asked Thalia, judging by the grim look on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira shook her head. “Nothing. I’ve sent Yoshimo twice more, but he only comes back with </span>
  <em>
    <span>soon</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soon enough isn’t soon enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bodhi and her vampires,” began Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Jaheira, her eyes flashing. “We won’t deal with those nightstalkers. But, I might have found another avenue. The Harpers have finally agreed to see you and hear our plea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s heart raised. “Oh? Took them long enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harpers are known to be expensive. I might’ve… bandied about the information that we had a sizable amount of coin.” She sniffed. “From this side of the transaction, I’m beginning to see where the less savoury aspects of our reputation come from. Come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia finished her drink and bade farewell to Viconia. With her eyes, she indicated for her to watch Anomen in her absence. Viconia’s lip curled, but she settled down in a dark corner, glaring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elminster founded the Harpers, didn’t he?” asked Thalia as they made their way to the docks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We rather formed around him, long before my time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do they </span>
  <em>
    <span>know?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she asked, hoping her eyes to finish her unspoken question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elminster had been instrumental during the Time of Troubles, two decades ago when gods had walked the earth and Bhaal had sired his children. He saved a score of infants. Gorion had been one of many Harpers who had taken a Bhaalspawn to raise outside common society. The plan, clearly, didn’t go accordingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not officially,” said Jaheira quietly. “And I doubt they know you, but they know Sarevok was one. They know the Children are aging, that some pose threats to peace, but no decision has been reached.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hope you don’t mind I brought my sword.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You trust few. I’d be shocked if you hadn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much like in Baldur’s Gate, the Harper’s Hall was a magnificent building splattered with elvish murals. The characteristic artwork showcased Elminster, harp-bearing warriors, and commoners spraying accolades. Within, it was far grander than the common guildhouse Thalia expected. The high ceiling and marble pillars disappeared in darkness above. Mystra’s symbol, a blue orb with winding mist and seven stars, painted the floor. Rather than half-drunken elven mercenaries, four guardsmen waited, fully armored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An elf stepped forward and the guards responded. He folded his hands behind his robes and gave Jaheira a fond smile. “My dear, it is good to see you again. Has been some time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your welcome is forced, Galvarey,” she said. “I was told the herald would see me. I’ve a job to put to option. Too important to waste time on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Galvarey had a sly young face, though wintery centuries lay behind his eyes. “It was I that called you, I’m afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guards flanked Galvarey at Jaheira’s outburst and he approached no more. The distance separating them was still far too much to be considered social. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re no herald,” said Jaheira, eyeing the guards. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Athkatla has lacked a herald some time now,” he said. “I seek to reestablish the hall. You are to help me, by doing what is right.” He looked down his tiny spectacles sternly. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> still know what is right, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re an ambitious fool,” said Jaheira bluntly. “You can’t be sanctioned to do this. Establishing a herald requires—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Declaration, yes. The High Heralds will judge if it is deserved. Really, Jaheira, this is a matter aside from our business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let us find a more private room to deal with the job option,” she said. “I am prepared to pay the standard rate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good.” Galvarey’s lips stretched, but did not form a smile. “First, though, I’ve some questions. Thalia, is it? Do you know why you are here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia casually rested a hand on the hilt of Aurora. The guards flinched at the motion. One took a better grip on his shield. The chain reaction to Thalia’s casual stance spoke volumes. She felt Jaheira’s tenseness under her forced casual voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because Harpers like to meddle. Your rates are naught more than highway robbery and you like to know who you’re robbing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia! Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Galvarey’s smile grew to something more genuine. “Ah! She is being playful. She just wanted to get a rise from you — a child prodding a mother. I wonder what Khalid would say to this little adoption.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Siblings we are in Harper blood, but if you do not still your tongue, I shall remove it,” said Jaheira gravely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No offence meant.” He raised a gentle hand. “Thalia, you are here because of who and what you are. Let me ask a few things straight away, then. Nothing too intrusive, I assure.” He stepped closer and the guards tensed. “What are your earliest memories? Are they happy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shrugged. “Gorion and I came to Candlekeep, though we had just left another small village. Where, I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Galvarey rose an eyebrow. “Running? No doubt from your past. I remember Gorion, ever the idealist. I was with those who thought Elminster had made a mistake. As a child of Bhaal, have you… violent thoughts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Having a few choice ones right now,” said Thalia darkly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. No surprises.” His eyes penetrated her, black icicles. “Threats are part of the nature of such a heritage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira groaned and stepped between them. “Why are you asking questions if you are going to infuse the answer with your own meaning? Black humour is a sin of youth. Thalia would never—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never what?” he asked in a wintery voice. “You are clouded by personal feelings. She may not think like us at all. Can you understand an illithid? A beholder? A devil? She is kin to them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only in your mind,” insisted Jaheira. “This is a farce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it?” He raised his voice above her. In the hall, it echoed. “Thalia, what is your favourite colour?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What has </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do with anything?” demanded Jaheira. She closed the distance that remained but Galvary seemed unbothered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guards were to protect him from Thalia. She didn’t want to make them necessary. She would not prove his point. However, two of them came around the side, shields held steady and high. They moved between her and the heavy double doors behind them. If she wanted to, there was no escape. None but bloodshed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Answer the question!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sighed. “I don’t know. Green?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green,” he exclaimed, “like the gangrenous limb!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chill ran down her spine. The answer had been reflexive. Green had always been her preference, but was that because it was the tone of the power, the result of necrosis? Had the power altered to reflect her likes?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or blades of grass, or leaves of a tree, you fool,” snapped Jaheira. “You are so intent on seeing what you wish that the answer does not matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In part, perhaps it doesn’t, but in the whole it does,” said Gavalry sincerely. “Do you know she employed a drowish assassin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira scoffed and paced as a storm, indignation barely contained. “Viconia has a foul temper, but is no more cruel beast than any other elf. And I will hear none more of this. You interrogate her baselessly, lured a fellow Harper under false pretenses—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emotions have clouded your judgement.” He grimaced and shook his head. “Khalid’s death was unfortunate, but it is no excuse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira’s hands clenched on nothing and she turned to him again. “I will not have you turn this on me or befoul Khalid’s memory. Not in my presence!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The rage,” he whispered, crestfallen. “My dear friend, as a druid, how can you allow this to walk about freely? Think of the effects on the balance! Can you corral the eastern winds to blow west?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With effort, Jaheira restrained herself. “Nay, but she balances herself. Her good heart bulwarks her against the taint of Bhaal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Galvarey rested a hand on her shoulder. “You know she ought be imprisoned,” he said, not sounding the least apologetic for it. “Intentionally or unwittingly, there is no telling what damage she could cause, the misery she could sow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not see a good woman caged for her blood.” Jaheira threw off the hand and returned to Thalia. They exchanged a look as Jaheira spotted the guardsmen behind them now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The High Harpers have made their decision,” he called. “Out of our friendship, I am offering the humane solution. They’ve called an open bounty — dead or alive. And for good reason. If she is the best of the Bhaalspawn, I shudder to think of the worst. We can come to a conclusion here, ourselves—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is where your narrowmindedness proves you wrong,” said Jaheira passionately. “She has saved the noble family of de’Arnise, rescued commoners from a circus illusionist gone awry, slayed a guildmaster of the Shadow Thieves, saved the lives of countless slaves of the Astral Plane, ended a beholder’s cult that threatened the city—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cavorted with vampires, murdered a man for that same guildmaster, procured a Nether Scroll for a Red Wizard, slaughtered foreign dignitaries in the street with Bhaal’s power, and butchered a merchant and his family in his home.” Galvary counted each act off on another finger, his tone growing cold and impatient. He sneered. “Is </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you meant by balanced?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been following me.” Thalia realised her mistake instantly and shut her eyes against the pain in Jaheira’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” breathed Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sure you are not the first or last she has taken in,” said Gavalry, unsurprised. “Evil is charismatic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We agreed we would leave the vampires alone,” said Jaheira, her anger barely contained. “Did you go behind my back? What did Edwin have you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kill a lich in the catacombs under the graveyard,” said Thalia regretfully. “He isn’t… He isn’t responsible for the rest of it, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira shook her head slowly, eyes wide. “What’s this merchant?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Accused of murder and proven innocent in the court of law,” said Gavalry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He killed Anomen’s sister,” said Thalia simply, knowing it wasn’t enough. “His young daughter was caught in the battle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You killed another child,” said Jaheira in the barest whisper. Her eyes grew distant, strange, and Thalia knew a line had long been crossed. Only now were they able to see how long ago it had been. It was not a single snowflake in the avalanche. It was the weight of it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you led the noble squire down that path. He was to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>paladin</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Keldorn had such hope for him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed. “I did, but it wasn’t the taint. I know when I act by the taint. I will take responsibility for my own mistakes, for the bodies I leave behind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’s worse!” exploded Jaheira. “This isn’t what you are, child! You are the daughter of Gorion, if not in blood, then in every way that matters to the soul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira faded back — taking one, two, three slow steps back towards Galvalry. Each one ground into Thalia’s heart. Bit by bit, the months and months they had traveled together, the friendship they had rebuilt, crumbled under her boots. And there was nothing to do of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are my sins,” said Thalia thickly. “You don’t get to reallocate them when you don’t like them. I am what the world has made me. I am the daughter of Murder.” She felt the guards behind her, metal on stone with each step. It would be a match of instincts, of awareness. She gripped Aurora anew. “I won’t go back to a cage. And I don’t want to win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia knew she would meet a bloody end long before the Bhaalspawn came to a crisis. Was it kinder or crueler for Jaheira to be the one? Jaheira, the closest thing to home she still had, rather than a stranger and sibling egged by the taint?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira had not brought a weapon. Her fists clenched on thin air and, briefly, her eyes flicked to the weapons on the wall. Scimitars, swords, maces — held on display for great deeds. Like slaying a Child of Bhaal. She took a scimitar down, feeling the weight of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tensed, her heart climbing in anticipation of the battle. “Please, tell Imoen I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaheira ran her thumb along the blade, eyes shining. “I swear, we will rescue her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia believed her. It was all she needed to know, in the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia slid into a familiar stance that Jaheira mirrored. Neither wore armor. It would be a damned short fight. Rather, a quick suicide. And, rather than going peacefully, she would make new widows, new orphans, new corpses for only the sake of her pride. To not go down without a fight, but instead drag bloodshed behind her into the hells. It was her nature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a fluid motion, Thalia drew Aurora and, rather than attack Jaheira, struck at the guard behind her. The light ground against bone and the steel gorget, but it withdrew from the neck with sickening ease. Blood poured free. The guard collapsed. Someone screamed. Thalia thought it was Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other guards moved, fast. Thalia picked the steel sword from the corpse she had made. Two blades again. As Khalid had taught her. It caught the second guard’s blade and she stepped out of the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, mistress! Go left.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird saw. They shared two minds, two bodies. He had her reflexes, the years of fighting bad odds — and the bird’s eye view from high above.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Left, now!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia obeyed and narrowly missed a magic bolt loosed by Gavalar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aurora didn’t cleave neatly through plate. Not like chainmail. But one guard lacked greaves. Another vambracers. The fight roused the rest of the Harper’s Hall and the battle was joined. They shouted warnings to each other, commands. More guards. More adventurers like herself. Like Jaheira.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Behind.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grit her teeth and turned back. They really needed to come up with a system. That was far too generic. Her blade turned aside a scimitar. Her arms turned to water, too weak to turn it aside fully. Even the adrenaline couldn’t push her hard enough. The yellow hawkish eyes of a stranger met hers. The scimitar scraped her shoulder as it fell, drawing a curt line through cloth and flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia dropped the sword and extended a hand. Jaheira flew backwards with the force of the power, unharmed but dazed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The power, once awakened, did not like to return to its slumber. It gathered and it was only a matter of time before she used it again. She caught the next strike in her bare hand. Pain exploded from the bone as blood flowed. An ice cold rust spread upwards and shattered. Somehow, the shards found their ways through the narrow visor of a helmet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ducked and slid under a halberd. Shards of the broken sword lay strewn across the ground. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached</span>
  </em>
  <span> and they rose — and shot. One buried in a knee. Another in a neck. Two more in the joints of armor, leaving them unable to raise their arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia marveled at herself for a moment. One moment too long. A shield smashed her face and left her dazed. Her broken nose poured a startling amount of blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia staggered backwards and found herself bump into another person. She glanced back, sword raised, furious at the bird’s lack of warning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she looked again. In a blink, she accepted it, left her back to her, and continued the fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had employed a drowish assassin after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s watching Anomen?” asked Thalia, panting, voice thick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia cursed in drow. “I am… no caretaker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dark steel sung. And Thalia suddenly saw the crossbow bolts in the dead, one rooted in Galvarey’s throat. Viconia’s hand gripped her tight suddenly and a healing spell roared over her skin. Her nose healed itself, the deep cut in her left hand, the bruises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Door,” said Thalia, breathless. She tripped a woman sideways and Viconia finished her off. “We need to leave!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s scathing tone of curses made the translation unnecessary. The Harpers would not let them. Thalia had had a brief moment to escape as the battle began, but had missed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Magic tainted the air somewhere. A wizard. Thalia commanded the bird to search. She and Viconia would never survive a wizard, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ayyy!</span>
  </em>
  <span> The bird screamed wordlessly in her mind as he divebombed the unsuspecting wizard. He burst into reality inches from her face. Thalia tasted blood on her beak, eyes popping in her claws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me a moment peace, Thalia!” cried Viconia. She began to chant softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia led them backwards. It seemed the nightmare of steel and blood would never end. Aurora never bloodied, but the light grow a darker gold. Tainted. Necrosis snapped more swords, creating shrapnel, rusting armor to scrap, rotting corpses. Aurora darkened to a tarnished gold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia missed her step. Whilst dodging one, she stepped into another. The sword carved her defenceless side, scraping bone and bursting an organ or two on its way. The pain was excruciating and she saw stars. Blood warmed her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia grabbed her shoulder and finished the prayer. It was one Thalia recognised. The two of them were invisible. As they slipped from the immediate battle, the chaos lost them. The Harpers spun around, desperately confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stumbled, struggling to not make a noise. Viconia’s hand tightened as she half-dragged them to the street. Strength left her, bleeding out her side, and Thalia collapsed against her. Viconia cursed and dragged her forcefully into an alley. Thalia couldn’t see her, barely see a thing. The shadows darkened warmly. Her eyes drifted shut and the pain lessened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will not die,” said a voice. It couldn’t be Viconia, though. “You will not. I do not allow it, abbil. You are…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A low melodious chant in a harsh tongue filled the air like music, familiar to her soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain grew again, sharp and gnawing like a hungry beast. It chewed her insides and Thalia cried out. A strong hand muffled her cries. It was Him again. The magic wove deeper, stronger, taking over her body. It reached a dark and forgotten part of her, a clawed hand squeezing her soul. The taint writhed in the grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia gasped, choking on the influx of sour tainted air. Blood tickled her throat. She wretched and rolled over, coughing. Her side throbbed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s nails dug into her and hauled her to her feet. Weak, Thalia staggered after her. The alley grew crooked and broke into another street. Shouts and curses pierced the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hurry, abbil, before those Harpers wise to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a handy trick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice stopped Thalia’s heart. Jaheira. She had left by the backdoor of the Harper’s Hall and caught up with them. Scratches marred her face, a bruise beginning to purple. Thalia saw the three of them from the bird, perched atop the roof. Herself, leaning against the wall, a head taller than Viconia and barely standing. Jaheira, all but unharmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia drew her blade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need for that,” rasped Thalia. “Doing… what she had to. Come on. We need to lie low.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had hoped Keldorn was wrong,” said Jaheira softly. “I still hope, but I know he was not. Only so far can we fall before… Well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. The alley swum in her eyes. “Come with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We killed her Harpers, her abbin.” Viconia pointed her hand crossbow. “She will only wait to strike.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Jaheira. She held her hands up, open. “I won’t, but I won’t come. I’m sorry, I don’t know where we went wrong, I wish I did. But I ask you — as a friend who loves you dear, as a Harper, a druid — walk away. Turn from this quest, from bloodshed, and simply live before it devours all of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would</span>
  <em>
    <span> you?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>said Thalia, snarling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.” She smiled hollowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile and empty words burned in Thalia’s gut, eating away at the years. It hurt more than the glint of a scimitar in her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never deserved Khalid,” she said. She attempted to stand on her own and grunted at the new pains. “If it were him captured, you’ve leave him to die. You’re a dirty coward — disloyal to the last word. We’ll be better off without you.” She spat, but it fell far short.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish you luck and happiness on this road.” With an infuriating calm, Jaheira turned and the alley swallowed her whole. Even as the other Harpers searched for them, filling the air with their nearby cries, the night silenced and grew empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We must tell the others,” said Viconia. “The Harpers know where we rest, we must relocate. Thalia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded absently. She let Viconia lead them back to the Copper Coronet. They seemed to be the first to arrive, if the Harpers still followed at all. Their cries had silenced many streets behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had recovered most of her wits, even if her heart pounded. It ached, trying to understand what had just happened — what would still have to happen. All she knew was that time was short.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia looked to and fro before grabbing the door to the Coronet. Thalia stopped her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saved my life, Viconia,” she said softly. “If you feel indebted to me, you’re freed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I did that to assuage a debt?” she hissed, outraged. The anger in her face didn’t even start to conceal the pain. Viconia snapped back a hand and it struck Thalia full in the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sharp stinging slap threw aside the last of the cobwebs. Thalia pressed a hand to her face, feeling it redden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia continued to curse under her breath. “Bard,” she called as they entered, “get off that damnable table. Find the wizard. And the thief. And the… Anomen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis’ song ended with a sudden quiet. He bowed graciously to his complaining audience. “Many thanks, but, alas—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We might have company,” shouted Thalia. Wincing at the burst of fog in her mind, she healed the last of what Viconia’s spell hadn’t. They might need her at full strength.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes wide, Haer’Dalis leapt from the table to the balcony above and pulled himself up. A knock pounded on doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get the gold from my room,” Thalia told Viconia. “All else can be replaced.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Viconia hurried up the same path Haer’Dalis had taken, forsaking the stairs, Thalia prepared herself. Someone needed to sober Anomen. The once-squire was blessedly unconscious at a table. The drink took mercy on him. Thalia swallowed her judgement. If she could heal a stiff wound, she could heal a hangover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She put a hand to his shoulder. Anomen stirred, his face stuck to the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen,” she said gently. “Get up. We need to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I —” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grumbled and rose, wiping a sloppy hand across his eyes. Thalia straddled the bench next to him and forced his eye to her. Anomen looked like he might vomit. Weathering the taint, she put a hand to his head, coarse dark hair in her fingers, and forced it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The haze left him faster than a bucket of ice water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen flushed and stammered. “There — I was only—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Harpers want me dead,” she said flatly. “Jaheira learned some ugly things I’ve done of late and has left us. They might be coming to kill me now. We need to leave. The others are rounding up. Come with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s stammer took on a new tone as he followed. “Thalia, what we did — we had no way of knowing that brat would get in the way. It was all — they were monsters. I…” His footsteps stopped behind her before following hurriedly. “What I said — to you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the door, then her armor. The extra hand helped immensely and, along with the former squire’s aid, it came together quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Edwin has a Nether Scroll, even if he can’t decipher it,” said Thalia. “I met with those vampires. We came across some Red Wizards and the taint turned them to smoking goo.” She snorted. “We have a drow in our midst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen frowned. “What? She is a woman of cruel beauty and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to know where your mind is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She readjusted the belt and they moved to his room. Anomen hesitated to let her help him, but he swallowed his pride. A layer of cloth padding. Chainmail, oiled lovingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I killed a child by accident,” she said softly. “In Baldur’s Gate. Had I not been imprisoned, I don’t know—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps I should be,” he said shortly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia knelt to adjust the straps on his greaves. “You followed your conscience. Your moral compass. It’s all any can ask for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if mine is broken?” He sighed. “I’ve treated you most unkind, most unfair. I fear all I can do is apologize and attempt to curry the strength to beat it back. And remain sober.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s eyes widened and she struggled to fasten the strap.  “I don’t need you to stay sober. Deal how you must. But I have not earned your curses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t,” he agreed. He swallowed, his eyes heavy on hers. “I’m afraid, though, that I am not the man we both wish I might be. You don’t need to forgive me. My actions are inexcusable.” He flexed his hands, in gloves and gauntlets. “And, without hesitation, I would raise a holy weapon against a woman who was once among us? A Harper? You are kind, but I’m unworthy of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stood and was shocked to see his eyes glisten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen, I don’t know a lot, but people are not either good or evil. The Order was unworthy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if they wouldn’t understand that mortals are not pure. We all have moments, of light </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> darkness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Life seems awful dark of late,” he whispered. “I’ve tried so hard… and yet it all seems to come to naught. My future is ash. My life’s work has failed. I’ve no family left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced and avoided his heavy eye. With a </span>
  <em>
    <span>reach</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she fastened his cloak behind him. The invisible hand lingered on his shoulder, cool steel under her touch. Like her, he had a special belt made to hold Candor’s staff. The weapon reminded her of Amauntaor’s riddle at the bridge. Keldorn’s answer that she had thought foolish at the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The hardest step to take is the next,” said Thalia, a bare whisper. “Die now, if you will. Give up. Surrender and claim this failure as your end. Or live and proclaim this isn’t it for you. Take the next step.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Downstairs, never quiet, took on a different sound. Still rambunctious and ale-sodden, but frightened. The bard that had stolen the room after Haer’Dalis fell silent. Swords sung from sheathes. Idiots. Either the Harpers were insistent to slaughter the whole barroom, or they met opposition from the drunken fools and mercenaries alike who loathed the Harpers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’ll it be, Anomen?” she asked. “A glorious death awaits you below.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Candor slipped from the belt comfortably into his hand. From both ends it grew into a spear, languid, the light glowing a bright gold. It cast dark shadows across his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” asked Anomen solidly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia drew her own weapon and stalked from the room, him close behind, without the faintest idea how to answer that question. At least she had sobered him — for now.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Shadowmaster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dawn broke long after Thalia gave up on ever feeling safe again. Even with Edwin’s scrolls, they had clamoured out the window of the third floor. The Harpers had pursued. She considered it a small relief she didn’t have to face cleaning her blade. Jaheira might’ve been among them; Thalia hadn’t dared lose herself in a battle. Self-defence only. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, could it be self-defence? Part of her still didn’t think she should’ve survived the Harpers Hold. Perhaps it would’ve been for the best. Not for herself, not for her friends, but for the rest of the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a dark alley, it had come to them suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aran Linvail. The man Edwin had once sought to protect himself from the Red Wizards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an ugly twist of fate, Linvail’s own guildhouse was but a stone’s throw from the Harpers Hold. Thalia knew. She spent hours in the back courtyard, doing nothing but throwing stones. Lemon and fig trees filled the air with fragrance. Someone kept it tidy. Statues and artifacts, surely stolen, decorated the gardens. The moon rose high, cresting over, and falling. The sky pinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin had spent the night cloistered in Linvail’s private room, negotiating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia and the rest had been separated from each other. The thieves had taken her arms and armour. All she could do was hope it wasn’t all on a boat to Calminshan. Still, while she could not see them, she felt the eyes on her. The bird did his best job at pretending to be a normal bird. He wasn’t good at it. Though, he found the spies, croaking loudly each time they found new shadows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia brushed her hand through the overgrown patch of mint. Her fingers awoke the scent. It touched her. In her mouth, the leaves turned to ash as she chewed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I must apologize for all this secrecy — cloak and dagger. I’m afraid it comes with the territory. One cannot be too careful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice was honey on cream, even cheerful. Thalia was sick to her eyebrows of charismatic thieves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what, then, is the appropriate address for a shadowmaster?” she asked wearily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>The</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shadowmaster,” corrected Linvail. “There is only me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had taken a seat at the ornate iron table, his arrival as silent as his title suggested. Like most things in the garden, it was part of the motley trophy collection. The metalwork was dwarven, the tablecloth of Neverwinter. Linvail was younger than she had expected, scant older than Edwin. He had a handsome hook to his nose and a trustworthy face. That, too, she was sure, came with the territory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia did not sit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin and the others were nowhere to be seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you come to an arrangement with the wizard?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not as of yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A meek serving man manifested as suddenly as Linvail had, bearing food and drink on richly painted platters. Thalia’s empty stomach growled. Linvail took a silver goblet — bearing the likeness of Selune — and the servant filled it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bit early for wine,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My workday began three nights past and I have not retired yet,” he said airily. “Never too early.” He sipped. “Enjoy yourself—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slammed a hand down on the table. The pottery jumped, though Linvail did not blink. His serving man’s hand darted to his belt — a hidden dagger. He realised his error and flushed, ducking out of sight again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail chuckled. “Not as dense as Edwin extolled. Please. I’m sure you’re hungry. It’s been a long night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sat and, knowing he watched her every move, only ate and drank from the portions he did. The wine was luscious, rich and dark and heavy. The sweet breakfast sat unwell with her, but she didn’t dare touch the savoury options. A spiced roast goat, steaming and pink, called out to her amidst the cloying pastries and candied fruit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have very little idea who I am, do you?” he asked calmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the man who could save my life. And the lives of my sister and friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Shadow Thieves take their name from the Shadowmaster, a title passed from agents of Mask, the god of thieves,” said Linvail with a pleasant smile. “We do not only reign in Athkatla, but from Waterdeep to Calimshan. I have hands in Thay, Evereska, and Icewind Dale. I am the most powerful man you are every likely to meet and… Mask help me, I love adventurers.” He grinned, his smile taking on a different tone. “Your concerns are so immediate. If something does not involve coin or your goals, it might as well not exist. No loyalties. No hopes of laying roots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ripped another fistful of mint leaves. The oils burst on her tongue and grounded her away from the sweets. “Will you help with the Harpers?” she asked, knowing she proved him right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An enemy of the Harpers is an ally of mine,” he said breezily. He raised his goblet and a new serving man appeared. “I’ve… made some rather choice business arrangements with the Zhents over the years. Harper elves have such long memories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled without humour. “I don’t care about your business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only one in the city who doesn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bald lies grated on her nerves and she could no longer keep the smile. “I heard something about your business, from a man with no reason to lie to me. Said you had taken a job from Irenicus to kidnap a Bhaalspawn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail’s smile sharpened. “What little birdie said this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird exploded into being above the bushes, a gasp of ink black smoke and brimstone. He cawed, ruffled, and stole a piece of cheese before perching on her shoulder. Three serving men lurched from their hiding places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mae’Var,” said Thalia. She stroked the bird. “He’s left a foul taste in my mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good man,” said Linvail casually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I killed him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How unfortunate,” he said in the same tone. He sighed. “What do you want to know? My hands are loyal to coin. It is how they are bought. I am loyal to my position — and my god. Irenicus offered an immense payment and we accepted it. I won’t apologize for a good deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You</span>
  </em>
  <span> put me in this position,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Months in his thrall. Three months now, scraping coppers to pay those responsible for my year in the tenth hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail set his wine aside and leaned forward. “I’ve put far more in far worse for far less. Threaten me truly and I won’t stop my men, but I am not your enemy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glowered but didn’t make a move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truly.” He drew a dagger and carved a slice of goat. “Right now, I am the only thing standing between an army of vampires and the sleeping people of Athkatla.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, a dashing hero in thief’s clothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” he said, chuckling. “Assassin’s clothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did not laugh, but she offered her empty hand. With a raised eyebrow, Linvail gave her his dagger. It was beautiful. Ebony and a hundred layers of folded steel. Enchanted. Far too fine for cutting meat. She didn’t give it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blame your men,” she said at his amused look. “They took my weapons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you blame them? We are at war with beasts far trickier than humble thieves,” he said ironically. “Keep Thorn as a gift from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this little knife worth twenty thousand gold?” she demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail smiled. “No, but I assure you, the coin will be put to immediate good use.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m certain, but who’s benefit?” She dropped the dagger to the table before she did something stupid with it. “I’ve been put off long enough. I want what I’ve paid for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shall have it and more,” he promised. “Passage to Spellhold is troublesome. Even with our latest truce with the Council and the Cowls, it would be easier to kill a king.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your dagger is very pretty,” said Thalia in a wintery voice. She sat back and ripped a fistful of mint leaves. The plant quivered. She stuck them in her pocket. “That alone is more successful at seducing me than all your wine and food and nice words. What do you want from me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need Bodhi out of the way,” said Linvail bluntly. He folded his hands and lost much of his charm. “With her in the city, I am bleeding. When cut I bleed hands, coin, influence, and worse. Many of her servants are vampires and their spawn, charming and seducing my hands. I can barely manage daily operations — let alone something like Spellhold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve a man with me who thinks there is no such thing as honour among thieves,” she said. “Prove him wrong. Honour your deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shall.” Linvail considered a honeyfinger. He snapped it in his grip, shards of pastry flaking. “My protection is not cheap,” he said, eyes darkening. “The Thayvian buys protection from his brethren with his magic — wards that have saved my life and many of my most trusted. Buy protection from the Harpers with your sword. Or I shall strike a bargain and hand you over today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia kept the fear from her face, but only just. To face death in a battle was one thing, but quite another to be so casually handed over. Sold. The bird was too simple to understand, but a cry warbled in her ear as he feared with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assure you,” he said lightly, “this silly feud with the Harpers causes me difficulty. I would love to gain their favour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never fought a vampire,” said Thalia, grimacing. “I can’t even say Bhaal’s power will work on the undead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will give you all the tools and information you require.” Linvail stood gracefully. “My guildhall is open to you and yours, Bhaalspawn. I’ll spread the word. You’re to have the run of the place, speak with my voice — all the usual.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stood and instinctively </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the dagger with her fears. “I haven’t agreed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agree or die,” he said with a smile. “I’ll even give you the choice: the Harpers or my hands. Mae’Var might’ve been my favourite, but he was not the only one. His apprentices would adore getting their claws into you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia kept her mouth shut and, taking an apple, followed Linvail into the guildhall. It was more a manor, spacious and its decor less motley. Several trophies had places of honour. In the basement, thieves bartered away cards and coin. Another practiced her archery down a needlessly long hallway. Even in the early hour, drink flowed from the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin must’ve been the only sober man in the building. He stood, eyes anxious, as he looked to Linvail. She sighed, relieved to see at least one of them unharmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, as I said, it’s her decision,” said Linvail. “I do think she’s rather debating if she would like to meet Caelin and Bovar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still thinking,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin’s eyes grew round and his lips twitched as he irked to berate her. She smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail chuckled and returned upstairs, to whatever business he needed to tend to. As he passed, his hand drifted on her shoulder. Her skin crawled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he likes me,” said Thalia mildly. She bit into the apple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Step carefully,” said Edwin in a low voice. “Aran Linvail is the true power of the Shadow Thieves — one of the most powerful men in Faerun. </span>
  <em>
    <span>True</span>
  </em>
  <span> power.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wants us to kill a nest of vampires or else he calls the Harpers in on us,” said Thalia, pointing with the apple. “Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I suppose. This isn’t your fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of that nonsense,” said the wizard. He pieced through his spellbook. “The vampires shall perish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stopped mid-bite, stunned at the immediate reaction to help her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mistake my decision for boorish sentimentality,” he snapped. “Thay awaits us both — a life beyond grubbing for coppers. A life to make something of ourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should probably be terrified that that doesn’t scare me as much as it used to,” she said dryly. “How will we deal with these vampires, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin raised an errant hand. “That Helmite warrior-priest ought have a few spells of radiant sunlight. If not, your blade, his spear.” He raised an eye. “I suggest keeping this to ourselves until a plan has taken shape. The monkeys might scatter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think our warrior-priest is feeling too priestly, or too Helm-y.” Thalia glanced around. “Where are the others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snapped his spellbook shut and indicated for her to follow him. All she had to do was follow the muffled sounds of lilting verse. Haer’Dalis waited in an empty bedroom — a prison cell without bars, rehearsing something to thin air. Without breaking rhythm, he faced it to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little heed do I pay ever to good fortune, Orinia,” recited Haer’Dalis, “yet serendipity plagues mortals fair and foul. Things too strange and strong to pay luck’s favour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin rolled his eyes sharpish and turned back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis blinked. “I had thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Maiden’s Brothel</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a Thayvian classic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you offended him,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, the horror,” he said with a smile. “I think oft on Dario’s lines. Destiny is a curious concept to this sparrow. You see, while I know the inevitable awaits us all at the end of life, I wonder on the middling. This life, between birth and death, holds little proof of meaning such as destiny or serendipity ought bring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s frown deepened and his odd silvery eyes probed her. “It sounds like you’re saying we’re all destined to die, but not live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis cocked his head. “Twas not my intent, but very true. We’ve no guarantee of life beyond this very moment, but death… we cannot escape Her, even should we wish. Is that not the very definition of destiny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds hopeless when you put it like that,” she said softly. She knew, in an abstract way, that Imoen would die regardless of her rescue in Spellhold. Perhaps, in decades to come, Thalia would face a life without her sister. Not this time, but one day. It loomed with Haer’Dalis’ words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps.” He retrieved Amaunator’s sun cloak, fingering the material with thoughtful reverence. “To this sparrow, tis but pure inspiration. Life passes in a blink, my friend. Make every moment worth remembering.” His smile softened and turned inwards. “Ah, but listen to me, philosophising.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most people, when released from a cage, would thank their rescuer,” she said slyly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis brushed past her. “My dear raven, when have you known me to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>most people?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia awaited them in the common room. Edwin, presumably, had gone to find the others. The basement was rather unlike the upstairs — dark and dank, the low ceiling and and exposed stones claustrophobic. The smell of drink was heavy in the air. Viconia stood in the corner, eyes holding dominion over the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drow are supposed to be unparalleled,” argued one thief. She slammed her drink on the table. “Massar knew a half-drow in Waterdeep what could vanish into shadows — </span>
  <em>
    <span>melt</span>
  </em>
  <span> right into them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Invisible,” snapped her counterpart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. When you goes invisible, you can still be hit. Dark elves control the dark. It’s right in the name. Summon it, extinguish light and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not worth it.” He groaned. “We can’t be taking risks, I tell you. Besides, they’re bad luck. Cursed by half the gods, slaves to Lolth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think to even lay a hand on me and you shall discover the true depths of my talents,” said Viconia coldly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man snorted. “This look like the Underdark, elf? This our home. You’ll never make it out if you think to cross us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am here under your Shadowmaster’s protection,” she said, growling. “You putrid sodden rivvil, you’ve no power over me here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like Thalia, Viconia had had her armor and weapons stripped. The thieves still wore theirs. And they advanced. Neither were large, but both towered over Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nel unsheathed a small sword. “Wanna bet on that, little elf?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nel, if a drop of blood lands on that blade you shall learn how kneecaps are a privilege of the loyal and not a right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him, Edwin had returned with the others. Far more importantly, Anomen carried a heavy trunk that could only be their gear. Thalia rushed to help him with it. Nel and his counterpart fled the commonroom, footsteps thundering on the stairs above. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t require your aid,” said Viconia sharply to Edwin. “Fetch me some wine, jaluk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The appropriate reaction is gratitude. And do not order your betters about! This is not the Underdark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t have known how he echoed Nel’s words. Viconia flushed a blotchy grey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> are no Red Wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reddened, as though hit. “I take orders from no one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia barked a high laugh. “You are Thalia’s little lapdog. By all means, continue. The leash makes you more tolerable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only agree with her!” said Edwin hotly. “I have not debased myself by following, unlike you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s more than enough, both of you,” snapped Thalia. She belted Aurora back to her waist and fitted Linvail’s dagger to it. “We’re safe here, for now. Let’s get some rest. Relax. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> kill each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thieves,” said Anomen with disgust, shaking his head. “So long as we speak of debasement…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are the guests of the Shadowmaster,” said Edwin. “Show the man some respect in his home, before the scurrying rats think to nibble on fallen paladins—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finish that sentence and your own kneecaps will be at risk,” warned Anomen darkly. “Suppose you think it better to wallow in your own evil, firing caustic arrows with every warble of those worms on your face?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wallow in nothing but my own powers and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” demanded Anomen. He dropped the trunk and the sudden weight jerked Thalia’s half to the ground. Edwin did not flinch, but Anomen shoved him back until he met the wall. “If you don’t wallow, then why take such sadistic glee in tormenting others? Corrupting others? Now, you’ve succeeded in corrupting even me, for I’ve an urge to partake in </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> pain. Helm help me, if you do not—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen,” said Thalia calmly. “That’s enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen had grabbed a fist of Edwin’s robes, but tossed him aside. Edwin fell into an unceremonious pile in the corner, nostrils flaring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen ground his teeth but the anger leeched from him. “I… I am sorry.” He cast a half-hearted glance to the wizard. “So long as we decide to tolerate him, I will… keep him in one piece.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything will work out as it should,” said Thalia softly. Her other assurances stuck in her throat. She knew he thought of his rage with shame, but what could be said?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen didn’t bother arming himself. He took off Candor, even, and ran a hand down the rough dull bar. Haer’Dalis vaulted over bar and inspected the bottles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need your weedling, too, fiend,” snapped Anomen. He retracted his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My hound, this sparrow seeks naught but your own peace. Luckily, mortals have bottled such an emotion and sell it for a common rate.” He pulled a bottle at random and two glasses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” spat Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis poured the liquor and rose an eyebrow. “You don’t look fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, stop looking, you blue-toned freak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen glared with narrowed eyes. “Being insulted makes you laugh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” he asked, more calmly. “We could both use more laughter in our lives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A foul look crossed his face. “Perhaps you’re right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, you are a worldly man, skilled in the art of battle. You must have some insights to this world this sparrow could benefit from? A story to immortalize in song and ink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve not many stories to share anymore.” Anomen inspected the glass uncertainly. “I won’t fall for your devious tricks again. Call yourself a bird all you want. We know you to be a snake lying in wait for foul treachery, a devil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My grandmother was a demon,” said Haer’Dalis mildly, “but that is neither here nor there. Even she came to die eventually. Her dust looks much the same as your father’s will, as ours will. As the gods’ will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grimace, Anomen drank. Haer’Dalis raised his own glass and gave a toast in Infernal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For a bard, I doubt you are much fun at parties,” he said doubtfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Thalia had turned back, Viconia and Edwin had stalked away. Hopefully not to kill each other somewhere more quiet. She sighed. Perhaps it would be best to chase after them, ensure Viconia didn’t meet more jumpy thieves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo slumped at a table in a quiet huddle, his head in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sat next to him and reached to touch him. He jerked back to sit up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You alright?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo forced a brilliant smile. “Pay no attention to me, friend. I’ve no wish to rest yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just today or…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth to answer, but screwed his face in pain and winced. He put a ginger hand to his temple. The pain seemed to pass. “There are risks in our profession, burdens we take on that we would rather not.” He sighed. “I do not hold out much hope that this will help us. Joining with Aran Linvail… is a mistake to lead to trouble. Stepping on dangerous toes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowned. “I thought you’d rather prefer this. Are these not your type of people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant nothing,” he said swiftly. “We are… getting involved in things we shouldn’t be. Bounty hunters do not last long if they make enemies. Vampires might have longer memories than even elves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” Thalia thought on it. “If we are too cautious, we will waste more time. Imoen can’t wait that long. Linvail’s the lesser evil here and I will do what I have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will all do what we must when the time comes,” he said grimly. The pain returned and he cursed. He stood, eyes squinting. “Ignore me. My thoughts are muddled. Perhaps I will seek a bed, it has been… a long night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia watched Yoshimo’s retreating back with concern. She didn’t want to leave him behind. He was a powerful fighter and clever rogue and, more than that, he had been imprisoned by Irenicus as well. He, too, missed a sister. Thalia felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span> a strong word, but she applied it readily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, she took the trunk and found the bedroom Haer’Dalis had been locked in. The bag of holding with its gold had been taken, but nothing else. She checked each blade, each strap. It all looked unharmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man laughed. It took Thalia a minute to recognise it as Anomen. He sat at the empty bar with Haer’Dalis, who sat on the bar, his boots on a stool. They had made impressive progress on the bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird flew from her shoulder to the bar. Haer’Dalis regarded the bird with fondness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does my raven’s raven desire a drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis found some nuts behind the bar that the bird had fun making a right mess of. Shards of shell flew like cannonballs. Thalia accepted the drink, but didn’t put it to her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you doing?” she asked Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had reddened a little with drink, but his eyes shone wet. “Nothing matters because we are all going to die!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia fixed Haer’Dalis with a sharp look. He chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Death is our destiny,” he said. “All life is born to die. All things fade. All that is vibrant falls to decay. There are no exceptions to such truths. We are born to die, not live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia couldn’t handle a second Haer’Dalis talk in a day while still sober. She drank and put a strong arm around Anomen. “You’re all in a cheerful mood, I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rather cheerful than miserable.” Anomen pushed the bird aside and reached for the nuts. The bird pecked at his sleeve irritably. “Can’t change the nature of men or the world. Why bother being deposed by it? The dead are dead. The living ought live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia winced. Part of that was her fault, she knew. It was a certain way of dealing with his grief, though. Better than hers, she had to admit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis frowned. “That was not </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, I thought I heard a party!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia eyed the woman who approached. Curly black hair tumbled down her bare shoulders and she held a red shawl closed to preserve her modesty. She giggled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me guess! A tiefling… a northerner… and…” She licked her red lips. Her eyes were dark and hooded as they roamed Anomen. “Hello,” she said, stretching the vowels like taffy. “My name is Tassa. What is </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> name? Aran asked me to check in on our guests.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen snorted. “How much do you cost?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that any way to treat a lady?” she asked, scandalized, but not offended. She slid between Anomen and Haer’Dalis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis became profoundly interested in a spider in the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t know I was speaking with a lady,” said Anomen, smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tassa flushed and stalked away. While not far, she pouted, tossing her hair as she awaited a rescuer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky she didn’t hit you,” said Thalia flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen shrugged to her words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis found a tune he liked and, as he tended to, expanded upon it. It was flickering, dashing hum with an almost flirtatious glee. Tassa soon took notice. Her eyes slid across the room, looking up through long lashes. He stopped the performance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia drank, fearful for Anomen’s mood at being bested, but he only laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, bard, it looks as though I may yet have been somewhat mistaken about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“High praise from a slipped hound of war. Pray, continue.” He waved a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It happens to occur to me — very recently — that despite the worthlessness of your profession in battle, it might have </span>
  <em>
    <span>a</span>
  </em>
  <span> use.” He gestured with his mug. “You’ve carved out an enviable position.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Envy is a flattering emotion on others,” said Haer’Dalis with a sly smile. “By what flavour has it stricken you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the Order, we had little choice but to serve those we were assigned,” said Anomen, bitterness edging his voice. “Recognition came slowly, if ever, from the self-rigouts overinflated lords and locusts. They were by far more interested in clapping each other on the back for a squire polishing their armor than noting the sacrifices of the scores under their command.” He sighed. “I must admit, you’ve found… a better way. Performances with immediate rewards and gratitude, the adulation and affection of ladies common and noble. Adventuring, sight-seeing, deeds of the scoundrel and the noble. A heady way to live the days, I am sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis topped up their mugs. “I could teach you an instrument or the stage, if you wish to perform, but I am thinking a… rather different performance of mine has caught your eye?” He rose an eyebrow, eyes sparkling. “You wish to learn the secret passphrases and gestures to unlock the treasures of adulation and affection — with a little more dignity than getting both of you storming drunk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen looked down into his cup, a delicate flush creeping. “I — Of course, I do not — Don’t be preposterous. I don’t require instruction from such… such…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis lifted a lithe finger and pressed it to his lips. Anomen went cross eyed staring at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nay, stammer not with embarrassment, my friend,” he said softly. His voice slipped into the quiet personal intensity Thalia knew well. “Be your interests male, female, or less common, they are all alike. There is no battle plan, no drills to practice. Your soul and spirit must be laid bare to the object of your intent. You must appear to be as flexible as the willow, not mummified by armors of inhibition. Believe in your every word and action. Believe it as though there were nothing more sacred in all the world — even if you know it shall be false a day, an hour, or even a minute from now. The future is abstract and uncertain. But believe, and they shall believe. Act and your actions will be rewarded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Anomen stared, Thalia felt rather better about not being the only one held spellbound by Haer’Dalis as he spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen flinched a smile and laughed unconvincingly. “Obvious nonsense. Very well, if you wish to be so — so ridiculous, so be it. I’ve no need of your assistance, fiend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” His smile took a new shade. “While you have so clearly alienated a paid lady of the night, I am sure those not for sale will be more inclined to your charms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those who prefer </span>
  <em>
    <span>men</span>
  </em>
  <span> and not halfbred planar—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis raised a finger again, but Anomen swatted it from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have another drink, my hound,” he said. He hopped from the bar and found another glass, filling it to the brim. “The night is long and I have much to share of women, if you’ve but ears and eyes. And hands. And lips. And…. other parts. We might even have a paid volunteer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen hesitated, not wanting to give an answer. The insults stuck in him, unspoken. Instead, an answer in itself, he swallowed back the offered drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not taking part in… whatever this is,” said Thalia, setting her glass down determinedly. She passed by the lady. “Take care of my men, Tassa. I don’t need anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tassa lowered the shawl. Her skirt, long and flowing like liquid made fabric, ended at her waist. It was all smooth skin upwards. She picked a little brass key from a pocket. “Not even this?” she asked innocently. “Aran says you’ll much want it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia snatched the key. It was warm from her body. “Enjoy yourselves,” she said. “And get some sleep. We’ll need to plan tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia could not make it out of that basement fast enough. She caught the tail end of Haer’Dalis’ new lesson and hurried faster. If Keldorn could’ve seen Anomen now. Thalia shut the door behind her at the top of the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The key didn’t go to any of the locked doors on the upper floors of the manor. It had to be a chest somewhere. A gift. She forcibly jiggled the last door on the third storey. The key stubbornly refused to open. A damned treasure hunt. As if she hadn’t already done enough banal tasks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door she wrenched at opened from within. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aran Linvail stood behind it, amused. “Do you prefer men?” he asked. “Tassa is one of my favourites, but I could find you another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no prostitute who can command twenty thousand for a night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “Mistress deVir said much the same. You must really put yourself beyond that. You are under my protection — should you come through. Until then, I am doing you the favour of treating you as though you will.” He rose a hand. “With all the benefits of such a partnership. How do you like Icewind Dale? It’s where the Harpers think you fled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia held up the key. “Where does it go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail took it. “Tassa didn’t say? What a minx.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He led them down to the second floor again and opened a door. The bedroom held a heavy chest at the foot of the bed. Linvail knelt, exposing both his unprotected back and his neck. Thalia considered it. The key fit and the chest was full of fire-hardened wooden stakes. Her heart fell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? The men get a pretty girl and I get a hundred bits of sharp wood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They want fun,” said Linvail simply. “You want to get to work. Not all want the same things. There are some dummies in the yard if you want to practice with a stake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tested the weight. Lighter than a dagger, an odd balance, stranger grip. Was she that transparent? Ten minutes of lunch and Linvail thought he knew her, could predict her? She fished a wilted mint leaf from her pockets and chewed it. Bitter. Cold. Sharp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me for being so forward,” began Linvail softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t proposition me. I’m not in a mood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came closer. “I was to proposition you with business, freelancer,” he said, smirking. “Mae’Var left his mark, didn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia spat out the chewed mint, unable to swallow. The taste wouldn’t go down, wouldn’t leave, even long after. “Prod me again and you’ll learn what mark </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>can leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fearless,” said Linvail in a breath. “Good. If you come back from Bodhi… from Spellhold, perhaps we should get to know each other a little better. Strike some deals. Find what the other needs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seeing how all this has gone,” said Thalia, indicating their soured arrangement, “when I come back from Spellhold with Imoen, I will put this city behind me and never return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A word of advice.” Without his smile, there was something very cold in his face. “Do not make enemies where you can instead make allies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you should take your own advice,” she said softly. “You might serve Mask, but you are not his son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail breathed evenly. He did not tense, not flinch. The position of Shadowmaster, surely, did not come without being able to seem bored by the gravest threats. But the coldness ebbed from his eyes and he left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia slammed the chest of stakes shut and sat on it. What a mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doorknob turned against itself, but the hand thought better and knocked. Thalia shut her eyes and looked through the bird. Linvail could expect a good peck in the ass and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>reach</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Viconia shut the door behind her quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, for following Jaheira and I to the Harpers,” said Thalia heavily. “And thank you for deciding, then, to join the battle on my behalf. And thank you for saving my life — and the others’ lives. And—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough of that,” she said, voice tight. “I’m… I don’t need your gratitude, rivvin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You deserve it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia paced, head down, jaw clenched. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Deserve,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she said, voice twisting. “By what do surfacers think I deserve this? Why am I the exclusion to the laws of your land? Had this been a new Lolth nation, I would accept it. Gladly. But it is not. And I look in on how you treat your fellows. I do not understand it — and I don’t desire it,” she added quickly. “Still. I mimic your customs and I do not receive the payment in kind. Yet, to transgress earns me a hunt, like a common goblin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viconia,” said Thalia gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped pacing and sat tenderly on the bed, as if Thalia’s tone only forewarned her of a curse. Viconia’s hands folded regally in her lap, head inclined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viconia, what happened since we parted last?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believed Imoen’s dream,” said Viconia simply. Her tone was brisk. “I purchased a lot of land outside Beregost, dropping your name as necessary. Not to be a farmer, you understand, but… a place to bury the past.” She sighed. “I remained hooded at all times, purchased materials and labourers to build a homestead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia resettled on the chest and already knew she would be hopeless. What words could she offer when such a pleasant story would have a foul end?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A male, a farmer visited me often. Roiran. An older male, greyed in the hair, wrinkled, stout, sunburned, and sturdy. I allowed him to bring me supplies.” Her fingers knotted. “Our friendship was odd, but he did not ask of my hood. I trusted him. One afternoon, I decided to reveal my face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever he said—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He smiled,” she said, her voice growing soft. “He mentioned his sons were coming around for an evening meal. I could join. He was to make a feast to burst the first button.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia found herself enraptured by the story. The kinder it went, the darker it was sure to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I arrived and was hit on the back of the head,” she said flatly. “Trust had let me grow weak — in you and in Roiran. They congratulated themselves on a… a fine catch. They knocked me unconscious and tortured and abused me, before trying to bury their sins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever forgiveness they tried—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Forgiveness.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Viconia made the word a curse, her eyes narrow. “They buried me alive. It was a mistake to not kill me outright. I crawled my way out of the grave and watched as they drank and celebrated. I took my revenge. Roiran watched his sons burn and scream. I strangled the life from his neck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” said Thalia softly, knowing it was unwanted and knowing it wasn’t enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am drow,” she said. “And I let myself be lulled into weakness. In many ways, I suppose I still am the daughter of Lolth. Cursed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry about Roiran, how he hurt you, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pain is the handmaiden of my people.” She sniffed. “Their tortures were amateurish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean physical pain.” Thalia swallowed. “I will never pretend to know what you felt, but I say I do know what it feels like to be judged and betrayed by one you’ve given your trust — because of your heritage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words cut them both, deeper than Thalia thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaheira left, but I can’t avoid people forever. I don’t want to. And neither do you.” Carefully, Thalia stood and sat next to her. Viconia tensed and didn’t glance up. “You know what it’s like to have friends, even a brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia flinched at the mention of her brother. “Is that what we pay for friendship?” she asked in a whisper. “They die for you and the echo of what remains insists you should’ve jumped into the pit first? No. Not worth it. The drow had it right. Complications and that stupid self-sacrificial instinct ought be avoided.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia waited, but Viconia did not insult her, did not curse, did not storm out or leave. Thalia pulled her close. Her heart ached at Viconia’s story, reaching out through her arms with sentiments words hadn’t been invented for. Viconia did not return the hug or even acknowledge it. Still, she endured it. When Thalia sat back, her brow was furrowed and mouth set in a mournful line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia said not a word. Neither did Thalia. There was nothing left to say.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Death of Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Breakfast was an excessive affair, including four serving men with glazed fruits, roasted meats, and fluffy sweet breads. It felt like a final supper, even if dawn had not yet broken. The basement and bar seemed to be given over to them. Thalia rose first, the bird a constant presence at the edge of her mind. Of all the fancy plates with their bounty, one held nothing but mint leaves. It felt like a taunt from Linvail. They wilted and blackened, curling inwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If only a vampire would be so considerate to rot when you glower,” said Edwin with a smirk. He sat opposite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never know,” she grunted. “Come up with anything useful last night — or were you… </span>
  <em>
    <span>busy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He produced his spellbook. “A mage of my powerful abilities is always </span>
  <em>
    <span>busy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as you so commonly put it. The Weave is an ever-changing mistress, fickle, but crows to the appropriate ministrations and light touch. Naturally—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re worse than Anomen. Get to the point.” Reluctantly, Thalia began to build a plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin frowned and glanced around, but they had been left the basement. “Speaking of, where is the fallen paladin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Busy.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She sighed. “Aside from a couple of sun weapons, do we’ve anything—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A couple of—” Edwin scowled. “Your chronic lack of gratitude, imputance, and willful ignorance will be the death of us all. For all of Thay’s glorious enchantments, sun blades have been made only by gods of the sun and radiance. To come across </span>
  <em>
    <span>three</span>
  </em>
  <span> is luck bordering on divine intervention — but, yes, do go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ripped apart an orange bun and dipped it into her coffee. “All I know is it goes </span>
  <em>
    <span>zzz</span>
  </em>
  <span> when I draw it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His scowl deepened and wrung a smile from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant by magic,” she said. “Find anything that might help us kill vampires? Linvail’s given us a box of toothpicks. I’ve been practicing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated, but turned his spellbook to her direction. Thalia couldn’t help but be intrigued. However, as her eyes roamed the pages, she quickly realised she wouldn’t be able to make anything out. The notes were largely Thayvian, the symbols alien to her. A small ink drawing of a sun seemed promising.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sun… blast?” she guessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sunbeam,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he said with grudging approval. “Whilst I considered other, less powerful fire spells, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Agannazar’s scorcher</span>
  </em>
  <span> could leave the bumbling frontline sans eyebrows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Six,” said Thalia, reaching for the pomegranate. Linvail’s dagger was a nice little thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin blinked. “Pardon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Six of—” She waved the dagger generally. “Your Red Knight number code. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hostile beam-spell that passes through melee. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Need to avoid your line of sight to the enemy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… Yes.” He looked as though she had just hit him with a frying pan. Momentarily, he recovered himself and sntached back his spellbook. “I… I wasn’t aware you were taking responsibility of the opportunity to work as a sword under a skilled Red Wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia raised an eyebrow. “I grew up in Candlekeep and you don’t think I could memorize a single sheet of parchment? Pardon. I’ll be offended, if you don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you require the occasional pat on the head, I shall oblige,” he said smarmily, “but I thought a Bhaalspawn might be above such petty praise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was surprised. That was less venomous than she expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gestured to his spellbook. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sunbeam.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Three sun weapons. A chest of stakes. That enough? Will we survive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I </span>
  </em>
  <span>will,” said Edwin with a snort. “Can’t speak to the rest of you monkeys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t lead us into a slaughter. I want to hear your thoughts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First I speak too much, then I speak too little! Bah.” He glared. “I understand you don’t have the faculties to understand your dire mood swings, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On its own, Edwin’s cup of juice tumbled over and across his lap. He leapt to his feet, cursing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oops,” she said with a calm smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, her victory was short-lived. His robes repelled the liquid stain and it slipped off him for the most part. It was most his pride that was sodden. Unfortunately, Edwin’s pride was the most dangerous thing about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A few cantrips! A handful of localized spells you don’t even understand a single iota! And—” He swatted at the bird as he flapped past him. “And a rotten </span>
  <em>
    <span>familiar</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And you think—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are the greatest wizard I have met,” said Thalia unflinchingly. “You are powerful and quick-thinking in a fight. Your ambition is a danger to you and everyone around you. I’d be dead many times over had I not run into you, either in Nashkel or Athkatla. And, now, faced with the thought of killing an countable number of vampires, I trust only you to get us out alive. You know what we do not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin stammared to a stop. His eyes narrowed. “At last, a decent modicum of appreciation for my stature,” he said stiffly. “Sufficient, for now, perhaps.” Slowly, he sat again. “Vampires are treacherous beasts, but, should we keep our heads, yes, we should survive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not nearly as confident as Thalia had hoped, but the measured calm assured her. It was more than she should’ve expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will they be awake in the day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In their domain, out of the sun’s rays? Certainly.” Edwin grimaced and muttered under his breath. “The spontaneously risen undead of the Graveyard District — they are not the result of the Nether Scroll weeping Weave, but stupid nightstalkers letting their pets off-leash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Necromancers and vampires. Wonderful.” Not hungry, Thalia forced herself to eat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin waved a hand. “Go motivate your underlings. Viconia ought make herself useful. Perhaps Shar favours her enough to repel the vampires — after all, they, too, are undead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted to showed she still paid attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Order the bard to find some </span>
  <em>
    <span>spells</span>
  </em>
  <span> that are more symphony than whistle.” His lips curled around the word. “Fire, radiance, and summons are most useful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Says the conjurer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I chose the school of conjuration for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>reason</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he snapped. “Often ignored, fiend, fey, and elementals are keener and more loyal allies than anything that might be found in the prime. There is a force of personality, naturally, that must accompany their commands. Obedience is alien to their nature, but all know when they are controlled by a master wiz—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When science locates the center of the planes, vulture, I’m sure you’ll be quite taken to find yourself not it,” said Haer’Dalis mildly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia offered him a smile and averted her eyes. He had not dressed fully, his loose shirt still unlaced, exposing a muscled chest and thin dark hair to his belt. Haer’Dalis leaned across Edwin to inspect the offerings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My spells are quite sufficient, I promise,” he said. “The trade of the bard—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is woefully inadequate and tremendously useless when compared to a wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alas,” said Haer’Dalis with a sigh, “this sparrow is not a wizard. And, so, he must be endured as he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ripped a drum from a roast chicken and chose a seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one final foul look, Edwin rose and swept up the stairs, red robes fluttering behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see what you mean,” said Thalia dryly. “Vulture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all have our natures.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced down the hallway Haer’Dalis had emerged from. A door hung slightly ajar, but no motion passed behind it. “Where is Anomen?” she asked softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Abed. In dire need of food, water, and the hair of the carnivorous dog what dared bite our sweet hound.” Haer’Dalis uncorked a bottle of wine and, ignoring the cups, drank from the neck. He sighed. “The hound is a tale and a half. The downfall of a would-be paladin, a hero-in-the-making, to a bloodthirsty mercenary and common man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything happen I should know about? Anything Anomen would… be insulted by, come morning?” she asked delicately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis smiled a private smile. “I would not deny him if he asked, but I left him untouched, if that is your worry, my raven. That job belonged to dear Tassa.” He sighed deeply. “Our hound is in a state. And, did this sparrow hear correctly? Vampires are on our horizon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, unfortunately,” said Thalia. She grimaced, eye on the door. “Could you rally him? The other night I feared for him in battle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feared for the Harpers,” said Haer’Dalis with a chuckle. He ripped the second leg from the bird, chasing it with wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The two of you are alright, then? I don’t want to be pulling apart any fights.” She rolled her eyes. “Any </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> fights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Knowledge and fear are mirrored twins,” he said somberly. “The more one knows, the less one fears. Anomen, quite to his displeasure, is finding we are not quite so different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stood and tore her glance from the door. “Doesn’t mean he won’t be pissed when the hangover clears. Make sure you both are ready to go before noon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen, thankfully, was not angry in the least. In fact, his cheerful disposition was more concerning than any rage. He and Haer’Dalis were not brothers, but far more civil than they had been before. Had Thalia known, she would’ve thrown a few bottles of liquor and a prostitute at them ages ago. Then again, perhaps not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, slaying the foul vampires that threaten the good people of the city, brewing under the graveyards like a poison,” said Anomen with a shade of his old glory as they set out. “My lady, this is a task for heroes. We should see if Keldorn is available. We might be able to drag him from the pulpit if we hurry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Linvail told us to do it,” said Thalia regretfully. “It’s my price for his protection from the Harpers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not everyone gets to be a hero,” muttered Anomen bitterly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heroes exist only betwixt the pages of song and folklore, my hound,” said Haer’Dalis, coming behind to lay a hand on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I asked your opinion,” he said, a cold eye sliding to watch that hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nay, and yet now you have it. Live with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wry smile found Anomen and he let Haer’Dalis walk alongside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Harpers, it seemed, did not patrol the streets. At least none that Thalia spotted. No one dashed off after spotting them, or followed them in dark shadows or upon rooftops. She had asked Yoshimo to take the high route and saw him on occasion. His watchful presence calmed her. For now, they were safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>About to butcher vampires in the catacombs under Athkatla, but safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In broad daylight, the graveyards seemed less threatening. A city of white marble, peaceful and shining. Yoshimo joined them again as Thalia found the building Bodhi had led them to that night. Like many of the doors, chains and padlocks bound it. Viconia grasped it with deft hands and a twisted probe of metal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced up, waiting for Yoshimo to offer himself for the task. The rogue moved to the shadows, clutching his head again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I do not know,” he said. He scarcely breathed, but the pain didn’t seem to ease. “I availed myself of the healer last night, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what’s wrong with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo bit his lip bloodless. “Yes,” he admitted. He chose his words carefully. “Some time ago, I found myself… in a position. A wizard placed a geas on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A curse of obedience.” Thalia shook her head. “Why is it acting up now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jerked a shrug. “Perhaps the man was fond of vampires? All I know is the hammer in my brain, the acid in my guts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His flippant smile was tense, belied by the agony thrumming through him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should’ve said,” she snapped. “Edwin could’ve looked at it anytime. Now, you’ll have to wait until we return. Go back to Linvail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo shouldered his bow and gave a grateful smile. “Thank you, my friend,” he said sincerely. “I’ll see if the Shadowmaster has a wizard that can help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s only a man,” said Thalia shortly. “Don’t give him that ridiculous title.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Abbil,” called Viconia. The padlock twisted open in her hands, the chains unwinding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Yoshimo turned back, the doors open and exposed the catacombs within. They looked much like the halls Thalia had come across with Edwin and Viconia, hunting the Nether Scroll. Unfinished rough stones passed into blackness. Aurora and Candor cast radiant glowing sunlight. Not enough, but the natural light was a comfort. The light pulsed against the edges of the darkness. Cursing at the daylight, Viconia vanished into the shadows’ embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia,” said Anomen stiffly, “I would like to apologize for my behaviour of late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” she asked, staring. “For what? Grief? Drink? The sin of a woman?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And more.” He nodded, ruddy in the gold light. “I’ve made the group vulnerable with my weakness and I want to let you know it won’t happen again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it does, we’ll look after you,” she said simply. “Stumble if you must. We won’t let you fall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too kind, but you speak only for yourself,” he said, smile tense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does she?” asked Haer’Dalis softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen had no answer to that and pushed ahead, Candor held high. No cobwebs lingered, no piles of dust. Someone kept their home neat and tidy. The murals, even, had been retouched with new paint. Bloody pictures, most of them unholy in their mockery of gods. Elven gods, she thought. The Seldarine, ripped of their crowns and left to rot under the black moon. Thalia turned to Edwin to ask about the symbols and references.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia screamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen made it there first. Daylight found the drow and revealed her in combat with a hairy spider twice her size. Black hair sprouted from white plates of bone and it hissed, stabbing with sword-like legs. The beast shrieked as Candor hit its mark. Blood spurted. Anomen leapt on and twisted it deep. The beast twitched once — twice — and fell still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia plastered herself against the wall, breathing heavily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did that come from?” demanded Thalia, rounding on Edwin. “You said necromancers—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lolth,” whispered Viconia in a fearful breath. “She — She has come for me. Never would she let one of her disobedient go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hurt?” asked Anomen, ripping Candor free with a spurt of gore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s gaze rested uneasily on Thalia. “Lolth does not forget,” she warned. “She will hunt me to the ends of the world, the ends of time. It… It would smart to leave. I remain a liability — not for surfacers to hunt for the sight of my race, but for Lolth’s hunters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen,” said Thalia, without taking her eyes from Viconia, “take Haer’Dalis and Edwin and seek out the rest of these beasts. If there’s one, there might be a nest nearby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen didn’t argue. His light faded as the others followed him. Aurora’s light felt dimmer, leaving Thalia and Viconia in its patch of burnished orange-gold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not abandon you,” swore Thalia. “You are more than a friend. You are my sister. Doubt my devotion, leave yours unspoken, but watch. The world can do what it wants. It will tear us apart, curse us, break us. When we return, I will tell you my pain and you tell me yours. Your battles are mine. Your enemies are mine. There is nowhere you may go where I cannot reach you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that not terrify you?” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” said Thalia honestly. “But love is terrifying.” She swallowed and repeated it in drow, “Your pain is my pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s eyes seemed to glow and Thalia realised it was wetness. Dew, she knew she would insist, from the sunlight. “Lolth is fierce and unforgiving—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And so am I. I do not forgive those who hurt my sisters. You know that. Come on, before Anomen has all the fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was indeed a spider nest. Not far off, the corridors ended in a grand entry hall, which the spiders had built into a thick nest. The webs had grown grey and dense like stone in their many layers. Bones crunched across the floor, alongside a score of dead arachnids and their eggs. Anomen indeed had had his fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin shouted something in Thay. A number.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen, Haer’Dalis, get back!” shouted Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nine. A hostile spell to transmute or conjure the environment and hinder enemy positioning.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They did what she said unquestioningly and the cloying scent of oil hung heavy. The air condensed, growing humid as it transformed. Webs nearest dripped the grease. Haer’Dalis grinned and ignited it. The surviving spiders died in the inferno, many of their webs going up in smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What in the hells was that?” shouted Anomen, stalking up to Edwin. “You nearly immolated the both of us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I expect those I work with to remain aware of their surroundings…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia drifted to a body wrapped in webs, still undisturbed and not taken to rot. A recent capture. There was nothing tender as she inspected it. “I swim in memories in such a place as this,” she said grimly, standing. “Most unpleasant memories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, let’s continue,” said Thalia. “I see spiders. Not vampires.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, let’s,” snarled Edwin. He shoved past her to the main hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Male,” said Viconia suddenly, reaching for Anomen’s arm. She retracted her hand before he could see it. “You… You saved my life. I…” Her expression twitched. “There are not many who would jump atop one of Lolth’s minions to save an exiled drow. One who has been… most unkind to him. You are owed my regrets and apology. And my thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen smiled. It might’ve been the first genuine smile Thalia had ever seen him make. The action transformed his face and wiped away twenty-five years of uncertainty. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Such a battle, for one so beguiling, it was a pleasure, Viconia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could say something that would invoke Viconia’s wrath, Thalia dragged them onwards. Quit while he was ahead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon, it became clear that </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> inhabited the catacombs. Fireplaces with recent ash. Clothes still fresh. Sarcophaguses lay open, coverings askew. Books and gameboards free of dust. Even so, the living quarters felt abandoned. Silent and eerie — almost as though they were in the catacombs below the Graveyard District. Thalia gripped one of the stakes on her belt. Each of them had a couple. A vampire staked in their gravebed would turn to dust, supposedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin muttered darkly to himself. Thalia recognised enough of the Thayvian to anticipate the protective and enhancing spells that washed over her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Done with surprise?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re toying with us.” He wrinkled his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do vampires smell like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are not the only one to have a familiar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had never considered that. The thought that Edwin would have some grubby little beast to whisper snide things in his ear made her smile. “Introduce me to him later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her,” he said unwillingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia told Anomen to dim his spear. The sun weapons were little more than slivers, the light more grey than gold. She shut the door behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sneaking, Mistress? But you’re terrible at sneaking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird’s low-light vision bloomed the darkness beyond into sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We know these early chambers are secure, but I need to know the rest. Go on. Shoo.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird ruffled in dignity before gliding like a black shadow through the darkness. More empty corridors, more empty rooms. And… a torture chamber? A shrine? Dark figures passed soft words to each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At her command, the bird drifted to hide and she relayed the report. As they followed, the smell of blood thickened in the air like a living thing. Sickly sour and heavy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shrine was empty. A circular room with a high ceiling in darkness, a half dozen doors shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia muttered to herself and sparks jumped from her signed figures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Invisible?” asked Thalia, but the answer was negative.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vampires can turn into mist,” said Edwin in a bored voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything else vampires can do?” asked Anomen sharply. “We’re wandering into this — </span>
  <em>
    <span>blind</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Creatures of the Negative Plane,” said Haer’Dalis. He approached the head of the shrine: an empty lectern and shallow jewel-encrusted pool of blood. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It is the blackest of night. It is the heart of darkness. It is the hunger that devours the world,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he recited from memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charming.” Anomen snorted and Candor burst brighter. “What, then? Fire, sun, and… famine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis nodded solemnly. “Creatures what hunger for hot blood in the veins. Fiends of the negative: bats, wolves, rats. A shadow of what mortal they might’ve been.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only the bird. Thalia watched exclusively through his eyes, searching in shadowy corners for a hint of movement. She had grown used to the odd perspective. Something twitched in the corner of his sight, a corner none of them could rightfully see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viconia, move!” shouted Thalia suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia dodged and rolled aside. Anomen hurled Candor and the tip split cracks in the wall. The burst of sharp light exposed the vampire. Grey-white skin, red eyes, and a feral face. It hissed. Hands curled into claws. It shouted in a strange language and the doors behind them flung inwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen extended a hand to recall the spear and the fight began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taint ached with a heartbeat. Thalia took Linvail’s Thorn in hand as they repositioned. The vampires moved </span>
  <em>
    <span>fast</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a bare blurry outline. With those claws, spellcasting would be impossible. Small mercies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One launched herself at Thalia, hissing. Fangs shone needle-like and a waft of blood-scented breath washed over her. Claws skittered against Thorn. Thalia struck. The vampire slid inches away from Aurora’s blade. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Four! O’clock, I mean. Back-right? Is that more specific? Oh, I don’t mean to be so useless, Mistress.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird prattled in a whiny voice. Thalia couldn’t spare the thought-space to tell it to shut up. Three vampires kept her plenty busy. She had been right to fear the fight. Her survival balanced on a knife’s edge. The vampires were impossibly strong and quick, dancing from the reach of her blades. A single kick sent her backwards with broken ribs. Their talons screamed against steel and left gouges behind. The taint reflected right off them; of course, they were already dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aurora pierced one of them with a cosmic scream. The vampire shrieked in pain and his flesh smoked with a terrible smell. Flames crawled across his skin. The other vampire stared in horror and backed up, only to be speared from behind by Haer’Dalis. Thalia swung and Aurora cleaved through the flaming vampire’s neck — skin, flesh, bone — like thin air. And, the second one and third in quick succession. The burst of smoldering gore and dead blood sprayed across them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As bodies fell, a new wave of vampires had been summoned from the depths of the catacombs. Five, six, ten. More. Too many to deal with at once. Not all were full vampires. Others — their spawn — moved more slowly, their fangs less sharp, hands ending in common fingers rather than claws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eight,” hissed Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fall back,” called Thalia. “Everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They backed against the entrance to the shrine as vampires continued to pile in. Anomen raised his shield, looking to Edwin with suspicion. The wizard’s hands formed spell symbols Thalia did not recognise.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sunbeam.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viconia, shut your eyes,” warned Thalia at the last moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spell burst outward in a blinding light. It must’ve been like being inside the sun itself. Burning hot and bright, impossible to escape. The vampires didn’t even have a moment to scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The battle ended in a stark and sudden silence. Haunting. Smoldering piles of ash and cinder covered the floors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia wiped her face. “Check over the bodies,” she said breathlessly. “See if there’s anything… anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taint might not be able to rot the undead, but it could heal those broken ribs. She moved gingerly as she approached the pool of blood. A body suspended above it, mutilated and dripping. A hole in the ceiling dripped from some vessel on a higher floor. They had interrupted a ritual. But what kind?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truly, my raven, you are an artist unrivaled,” said Haer’Dalis passionately. “Such a delight to witness your craft.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Warrior. Sellsword. Mercenary. Not an artist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lectern had held a book. Hopefully a vampire had thought to take it with him, or secret it in another chamber. Linvail might not be interested, but Edwin probably would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All and more,” said Haer’Dalis. “Battlecries are your song, the fight your dance, and your colour of choice is red, its movement pure poetry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled in spite of herself and inspected the base of the lectern. It didn’t seem to open, no matter how she pulled. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye?” He chuckled. “This I shall keep in mind, my sweet raven. Long have I watched and fought at your side and, regardless of the direction, excellence is what you achieve. Tis astounding that everyone you meet does not marvel at the wondrous being you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted. “You’re about to ask me for new armor or a magic trinket, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! If you’ve a mind for giving, I’ve a mind for receiving. But I speak not as idle flatterer. In the truth of every plane, I am awed by you, Thalia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia hesitated. She hadn’t known Haer’Dalis had even known her name, the silly nickname he insisted on. “That’s just my blood,” she said irreverently. “Nothing special about me without Bhaal’s taint.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed and leaned against the pool. “Aye, what would the raven be without wings? And what are wings without the raven? Without your blood, you would be dead and, without you, your blood would be…” His fingers skid across the surface of the pool, scattering thick and red across the floor. “... a rather morbid splotch upon the ground.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced at his meandering thoughts. The lectern had nothing of use. She truly did not want to inspect the pool of blood. The scent was bad enough. It must’ve been from a dozen corpses, kept magically fluid, but did it hide anything? A </span>
  <em>
    <span>reach</span>
  </em>
  <span> disturbed the surface, but she struggled to sift through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Without my blood, I might well be an empty and lifeless husk,” she said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Haer’Dalis recoiled in shock. “My raven, I find such an image deeply worrying. I did not mean to make light of your somber declaration, but tis foolish to think to separate the two. To reject one is to reject the other. You are not only who you are but </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia raised her eyes from the blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve wondered at times if you realise your own worth,” he continued softly, “the value of the powerful being and beautiful muse that you are. Let none and nothing tell you elsewise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the dim flickering light of Aurora, the undead blood and gore still splattered his face. He meant it. Every word he said, the half-crazed obsession and delight with her divinity, the fondness. Not even two tendays since they had met. Yet, he had seen her truly — things that had sent Jaheira fleeing to the enemies, things that Imoen did not yet know, fears Thalia had not put to words — and embraced them. She had listened to him advise Anomen to act with women — but she sorely wished to believe Haer’Dalis. It was hard not to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she said. An irrational panic lurched in her at the confession, but Haer’Dalis only smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that, my radiance, is a pity and a shame.” His silvery eyes graced her and his smile turned. “Someone ought remedy the years vacant of praise and adoration.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s mouth dried but a warmth fluttered in her and his gaze held her rapture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing,” called Anomen, making her jump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she tuned back to Haer’Dalis, the look had left him and he glanced politely to Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of them still twitched, but some stakes took care of that. Should we move on, then? Everyone stable? Unharmed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yes,” said Thalia, struggling to find the mindset again to fight. Haer’Dalis had left her spinning. A raven flying helplessly in circles, he might say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird scouted the further chambers and led them up a spiral staircase. More vampires could be found, but always alone and easily dealt with. The spray of blood, ice cold form the undead, held a warmth of Haer’Dalis’ compliment. It churned uncertainly in her gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The higher floor was dominated by a sloping room. Hundreds of iron spikes covered the floors. A hole in the center dripped the bitter results down into the pool in the shrine below. Rotting meat and dried blood clung to more than one spike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A woman waited patiently for them. Bodhi. She sat in a crouch, standing barefooted on the spikes. She rose gracefully. “I had hoped it would not come to this,” she said in a gravely seductive, “but you are well set in your path, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you know about my path?” asked Thalia sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi moved deliberately slowly, stalking from the far side of the spiked room. “I know many things. About you. Your employers. Their intent. Can you say as much? Can you truly know these people cloaked in shadow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk all you want, creature,” said Anomen, taking a new grip on Candor. Thalia reached a hand to hold his throw. “It will change nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Believe me or not,” said Bodhi with a careless smile. “I’ve little concern. It would seem you are determined to create a nuisance of yourself regardless.” She leaned forward, but seemed in no danger of losing her balance. “Tell me, has sweet Aran Linvail done anymore than promise? Has he delivered a single thing or simply made certain you are always within his grasp? Has he said </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> he seeks your service to come here? Why has he offered to help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My reasons are my own,” said Thalia curtly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi’s smile widened, her eyes glassy and half-mad. “Truly? And he promises to help with your problems, yes? But has he mentioned </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was their creator?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stilled, understanding before Bodhi finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> had to tell the Harpers what you were up to,” she said innocently. “The Harpers command a high price and pay well in turn. And we both know Linvail likes the glitter of gold.” She laughed. The girlish sound echoed against the spikes. “He’s such a young fool. Gold is never in short supply for long. Long after it is spent, enemies haunt the dark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you suggesting, then?” she demanded. “I join with you, after slaying your vampires and spawns?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no,” said Bodhi cheerfully. “No, I’m quite certain this will end in violence. I was only curious if you knew the extent to which you were being used, Bhaalspawn.” Her smile grew soft and indulgent. “Yes, I know what you are. Irenicus told me. He might’ve learned to awaken your power, had the blackhoods not interrupted him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The name slapped Thalia and left her heart and mind twisted. “What do you know of my capture?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know more than your brain could hold in a lifetime.” Bodhi advanced closer, each step languid and deliberate. “So much lies beneath your nose. Why, even Imoen escaped your—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imoen has not escaped me,” shouted Thalia. “I will find her! And I will find Irenicus!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might have, if destiny turned different,” said Bodhi errantly. “Now, if you mind not, I should like to test you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this some sort of game to you, nightstalker?” asked Viconia sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps, but games can be deadly serious, especially when the players know not all the rules.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi’s eyes glittered. She rose a clawed hand, as though to cast a spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia dropped the hand that stayed Anomen. Candor shot through the air, but the radiance was obscured almost instantly by a cloud of bats. The creatures reeked of the grave. Several shrieked at the light as they were pierced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi vanished in the cloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia bit back her fear and stepped onto the first spike. It clanked on the underside of her boot. They were solid, near two feet long, and sharpened to deadly points. A single wrong step could spell death. Thalia struggled to keep her balance, but, as Viconia and Haer’Dalis joined her, she couldn’t leave them alone to fight Bodhi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air thickened with a spell, condensing into a fog. It was thick, but could be easily seen through. Thalia’s next steps were more unsteady and she cursed Edwin under her breath. Then, she saw his strategy. The magical fog all but illuminated Bodhi’s mistform.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia struck out a hand and cried an incantation in drow. Purple faerie fire outlined the vampire’s indistinct shape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Growling, Bodhi transformed and launched at Viconia. She couldn’t finish the attack, fearful as she was of Aurora. The sun blade crackled at the bare edge of her skin. Bodhi shrieked and backed away, against the flurry of Haer’Dalis. The blades sunk into her flesh, but seemed barely to inconvenience her. A fiery bolt hissed over her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taint built and thrummed sharply — but vampires were immune to the powers of death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Candor shuttled past where Bodhi’s torso had been moments ago. She fell low and swept a leg out. Haer’Dalis jumped in time, but Bodhi struck and he flew against the spiked room. A wet groan grunted out of him as he landed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s heart stuttered. She reached for the spikes under Bodhi and they rusted and weakened. Bodhi leapt aside easily, arching her back to dodge another spear. One by one, then dozens all at once, the spikes crumbled. The room became filled with a fine rusty iron dust. Bodhi jumped backwards and grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do so hope I’ll see you again, Bhaalspawn,” she said. “That was quite the spectacle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned to mist again, her form outlined in sparkling faerie fire. It didn’t matter, though. Bodhi drifted down the hole into the shrine room below, vanishing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tiefling,” shouted Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spikes had crumbled, including the ones that had stabbed through Haer’Dalis. Anomen got there first and rolled him onto his back. Haer’Dalis groaned in pain. His blood joined the echo of dozens of other victims of the spiked room, refreshing the dripping rivers down the hole. The spikes had punched holes through the infernal chainmail. By small miracles, the heart had been spared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viconia,” called Thalia. A single spell should be enough to stabilize, at least until they got back to Athkatla.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia nursed her own pains and limped over. Slowly. “Put the Helmite to work,” she snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Helm has abandoned me,” said Anomen curtly. “I won’t call upon his assistance should be find me so unworthy. Especially where there are other options. Get on with it, Viconia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis opened his eyes, heavy with pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Use every advantage available to you, male,” said Viconia, breathless. She leaned against the wall to support herself. “Use the god, even, if he has not yet stripped your powers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen had blanched. He swallowed and extended his hands. “Watcher, I bid thee, attend the righteous, he who has defended the weak and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia felt an odd lurch. From the direction of nowhere and everywhere. The place from where the bird came. A place that was somehow within and without. The taint quivered and shrunk back. Her spine burned and stopped her heart. Thalia struggled to stay upright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something touched it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anomen</span>
  </em>
  <span> touched it. As he had all day, tapping into her divinity to enhance Candor, to recall it, wordless prayer to enhance his prowess. Yet he hadn’t asked before like this. A request. His words echoed in her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a burst, she felt his uncertainty, his fears, his hopes. The path of his father, so neatly laid out for him — drunk and abrasive, impulsive, alone, unwanted. A longing to be needed and adored. His broken dreams. The pieces, beginning to fit together in new ways. A plea to pull back death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She answered it and gave him access to the taint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s hands glowed a white-blue and Haer’Dalis’ skin mended. The blood pulled back. Under the broken chainmail, the wounds vanished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glow faded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taint pulsed with a deep ache, weak but stable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia panted and steadied herself. They all stared at her. Even Anomen. Especially Anomen. Mouth and eyes wide open in horror — in fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t abandoned you,” said Thalia quietly. She winced. “Perhaps we should… practice that again… some other time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re…” began Anomen, but there was no ending to that sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A demi-god,” said Haer’Dalis with reverence.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The Last Long Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I went back and forth for so, so long on what sort of instrument Haer'Dalis plays in this segment. It ended up being a kalimba and I'm still not entirely happy with it. If anyone has another idea, I'm open to it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As the Shadowmaster’s guildhall recognised them, none barred their way. For the best. The more steps Thalia put between her and the catacombs below, the more she lingered on Bodhi’s words. The more the rage built. Linvail had manipulated her, put her in a position to come crawling to him for help, then extorted her to pay for it. Everything came back to him. All but Jaheira. Her friendship had been lost with truth. That alone had been Thalia’s fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of her wanted to butcher the rest of his insipid servants and kill him with his own dagger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of her just wanted answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird sat on her shoulder — not speaking, but making the taint’s thoughts plain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia still hadn’t decided on what to do by the time she hammered on Linvail’s door. The man hadn’t even come to greet them. Movement shuffled within.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get his chainmail repaired,” said Thalia to Anomen. “Ensure Haer’Dalis recovers. Find Yoshimo — he’s under a geas and in a lot of pain. Edwin, see about curing the curse. Viconia, Haer’Dalis, rest. It’ll be a long night, but hopefully the last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, they did as she said and left her at Linvail’s door. All but one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aran Linvail is not a man to be trifled with,” said Edwin softly. “He is a dangerous fiend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As am I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hammered on it again. Shadows passed from under the door as one moved to open it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is not wise—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not for him,” said Thalia, in a voice that brokered no arguments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened. Not by Linvail, but one of his serving men and bodyguards. He bowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardons, miss,” he said smoothly. “A bath will be drawn in your quarters momentarily. Dinner will be served and we will see your armor repaired, polished, and returned—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia punched him. The nose broke against her gauntlet and he dodged lithely, anticipating a second, but she had already forced her way into the room. The bird turned back and croaked. The man had drawn a knife. He stepped on a rug and it yanked out from under him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aran Linvail calmly drank coffee in the sitting room. The doors to his bedroom opened and three more men emerged, along with a handful of women, all in various states of undress and bearing weapons. Linvail said something to them in Amnish and they retreated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honourable Shadowmaster—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave us, Edwin,” said Linvail sternly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather more slowly, Edwin left and the door closed. Thalia would’ve been shocked if all those banished hadn’t been listening at the keyholes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve done well today,” said Linvail. “Please sit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had an urge to knock over his little table, brimming with cakes and small dishes. Instead, she sat. The serving man with a broken nose poured her coffee. It was strong and sludge-like, almost too bitter to drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bodhi had some interesting things to say,” said Thalia. The coffee was not hot enough to tempt her to throw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see. And what was it she said? Her kind has a innately deceptive nature.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is why I ask gently.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. Gorion had often warned her to count to ten. Had he known the taint would infect her with a temper? Had it always been hers? “How did the Harpers come to know of my actions? Did you have me followed — stalked, and then goad them to act, so I would be forced on my knees and you could take advantage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Devious.” Linail smiled blandly. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t imagine many say nice things—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that, my radiance, is a pity and a shame,” continued Linvail, his black eyes shining. “Someone ought remedy the years vacant of praise and adoration.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chill ran down her spine. Thalia stared. His words hit her in the gut, harder than if she had been punched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was a private conversation,” she said darkly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail reached into his belt and extracted a dagger. It was identical to the one he had given her. A pretty carved black stone in the pommel, its blade wicked sharp and a hundred layers of folded steel. At his touch, the gem glowed before fading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is the—” she started, but her sentence died in her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gem glowed with the beat of her voice. And it repeated her words, small and tinny, as if another small Thalia lived within. Thorn, stuck in her belt, gave no sign of transmitting the sounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail ceased the connection. “Yes, I know what Bodhi has told you. No, she was not wrong. The Harpers made it known through discreet channels they sought information on the Bhaalspawn. Harpers are under the impression </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> should charge their extortionate rates. Hard to refuse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Much like Irenicus’ offer to kidnap us?” snapped Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said casually. “Yes, much like that. The Harpers wanted to gather information on the Bhaalspawn and it came to our attention that what we had captured </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> one such. Bodhi was in league with her brother, and so, we had a personal stake—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail nodded. “Try a figcake. There’s a bakery down by the bridge that does a remarkable job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The serving man put one on her plate, but Thalia could only stare. Bodhi was Irenicus’ sister. And, despite what she said, on good terms with him. That was why the Shadow Thieves’ deal with Irenicus had gone sour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mae’Var and I came to the conclusion that our last contract ought be voided,” said Linvail lightly. “None cross the Shadow Thieves and live. And so, we had been hired to imprison you. We released you. Your every free step was to spite Irenicus. Only fair, in the end, we should catalogue them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only reason she was free. The only reason Imoen was imprisoned. Bodhi had decided to anger the Shadow Thieves. Happenstance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spellhold is our destination as well,” said Linvail. “Our debt with him is not yet settled. He and his vampiric sister brought the Shadow Thieves to the brink. Do not think you fight this battle alone—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve spied on me, imprisoned me, nearly killed me, and lost me a dear friend,” said Thalia in a low voice. “What makes you think I want your aid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are many things, but you are not stupid,” said Linvail. He picked apart a cake on his own plate. “Spellhold is a fortress. Competent you and your company may be, but every army needs disposable footsoldiers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would give me men you don’t expect to come back?” she asked, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you. I’ve a debt to settle.” Linvail sighed and the serving man refilled his coffee. He drank it almost immediately. “Athkatla is ruled by a tenuous quiet alliance of the Council of Six, the Cowled Wizards, and me.” He smiled. “They think me weak of late. A blow must be struck and the Cowls must be brought low.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were good reasons. Easy to trust. Easy to understand. Thalia picked at the cake. The crumb fell apart, soft and moist with fruit and spices. Thieves were loyal to money. Aran Linvail, by his own admission, was loyal to his position and power. He had every reason to get to Spellhold in a timely manner and ensure the deaths of Irenicus and the Cowled Wizards within.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, as Anomen had said, there was no honour among thieves. How could any trust liars?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Especially when they had already proven unworthy of her trust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish my desires were as noble as yours,” said Linvail softly. “A sister, stolen away by an evil archmage. But we all are what we are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cake turned to ash in her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With her guild largely dead, Bodhi has likely returned to her brother’s side,” he said. “You’ve bought us time to smuggle a ship to Spellhold. We can leave at dawn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On a condition,” said Thalia. She pushed the cake away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail arched an eyebrow with a quirked smile. “You think to make conditions on this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You come with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail’s smile slipped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honourable Shadowmaster,” she said with a smirk. “Fight alongside your men. Risk your life for what you truly desire. I’m not having you send me on this suicide mission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not,” he insisted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clicked his fingers and the serving man took away the trays of cakes, returning moments later with wine and dinner. Roast fowl. Fried savoury bites. Eggplants grilled and spiced. Fluffy sweet breads, colourful spreads, fruits, and tiny fish fragrant with lemon. The excessiveness had worn thin and no longer impressed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia did not even glance at the serving man when he pushed a glass of red wine towards her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elverquisst, from Suldanessellar,” said Linvail with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned. “I understand your hesitation. If you require such a token—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call it insurance.” She crossed her arms and sat back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will join you.” He sighed and turned over a small glass. The serving man filled it with liquor, which Linvail promptly drank with a foul look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t tell me you’re a bureaucrat?” she said scathingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the contrary,” he said, offended, “I am an assassin of some skill and, as I said, Chosen by Mask the Lord of Shadows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mask is dead. He died in the Time of Troubles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail smirked. “Much like Bhaal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he vanished. Invisible. Without so much as a movement, magical command, or gesture. Not the slow-moving invisibility Thalia knew, but a blink of absolute nothingness. And he returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Linvail began to eat, Thalia joined him. This night would be longer, even, than she had thought. She didn’t fear betrayal from Linvail on the path to Spellhold. In fact, it reassured her of the mission’s legitimacy. She would need a few more eyes to keep the Shadow Thieves on line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since we are being so honest with each other,” said Linvail confidentiality, “you know I listened to your battles tonight with Bodhi. Your abilities… are quite impressive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ate a fish with her fingers and spat out the bones. To his credit, Linvail didn’t flinch. Rather, to her displeasure, he seemed charmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you reconsider my offer of joining the Shadow Thieves, upon our return?” he asked. “We’ve our personal difficulties, I know, but the profession is another matter entirely. Spit fire against torture, murder, and thievery. You know when things need be done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve a certain distaste for those torturers, murderers, and thieves who so thoroughly enjoy their labours,” she said bitterly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet, you seem to prefer my company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would gladly kill you, if I had no need of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail smiled into his wine. “I do so love honesty.” His long fingers twirled the stem. “What is it that motivates you, freelancer? Coin? Trinkets? Glory? Do you seek to paint the history books and bard songs your own colours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Return Imoen to me and we talk again,” she said thinly. “And give me that other dagger. Spy on me again and I won’t be so forgiving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail nudged it towards her. It looked identical to the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And any others that these stones communicate with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My, aren’t you the clever one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail gave an order to his serving man in Amnish, who returned with a small pouch of them. The sight disgusted her. Quickly, Thalia lost her appetite. She snatched them, the second Thorn, and stood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what shall you do, hmm?” asked Linvail with a smile that made her skin crawl. “On this last night before battle? Shall I send an attendant or two? A water pipe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Send Tassa to my men,” said Thalia shortly. “And don’t let me see you again until dawn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aran Linvail chuckled behind her as she stalked out of his chambers. Edwin, as she had expected, had been listening at the keyhole. She thrust the Thorns and stones into his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They talk to each other,” she said. “Linvail’s been spying on us. Destroy them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, I see.” Edwin inspected the stones. “You are so stupid as to accept a rothe without first checking its horns.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made a mistake,” she snapped. “Don’t remind me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded in his quiet, retreating. “Linvail wants something from you,” he said softly. “He tolerates that manner in which you speak with him, your demands of someone of his stature—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. We’ll figure it out.” Thalia stopped them in the hall and grimaced. “See about Yoshimo. I want him with us at Spellhold, but not in that state.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you certain?” asked Edwin in a low voice. “Your judgment, never sound to begin with, treads shaky ground. How many times have I warned you of the Harpers? And now,” he continued louder, as Thalia made moves to interrupt him, “you ignore Yoshimo’s duplicity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Linvail’s made it clear. If he wants to spy on us, he’ll find a way. Yoshimo has debts to clear, his own sister to find—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Shadow Thieves are a force, yes, but understandable,” he hissed. “They are predictable and therefore controllable. And they certainly didn’t cast that geas. Have you considered your Irenicus cursed him whilst in captivity?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia crossed her arms. “He claimed he had it for years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin rolled his eyes sharpish. “And you swallowed that eagerly, I am sure, like a toddler offered a carriage of peas and mashed turnips.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not an idiot, I trust him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two conflicting statements, Bhaalspawn. The first primally incorrect, the second foolish.” He stepped closer and glanced down the hall to ensure they were alone. “I spoke with the Shadowmaster’s mage. The geas was either cast </span>
  <em>
    <span>many </span>
  </em>
  <span>years ago or by an exceptionally powerful wizard recently. The best he could do for him was a draught for the pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps he ran afoul of Elminster last tenday,” said Thalia with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin reddened. “Or Szass Tam! Or Vecna! Or an apprentice cursed him two decades ago! More power exists in this world than in that meddling, floppy-hatted greybeard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia fixed him with an aghast look. “Did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> cast the geas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I had been casting geases about these monkeys, I would’ve started with that druid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was right, of course, but the mention of Jaheira stung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prepare yourself,” she said shortly. “We leave at dawn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia turned from him and knocked at the door behind them. Viconia opened it after a hesitation, almost shutting it when she saw Edwin, before the wizard stormed away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had dinner with Linvail. He’ll be with us at Spellhold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia hmm’d. She returned to sit on the bed, her embroidery box opened. “Long past the time for him to put himself where his mouth puts him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia smiled at the odd phrasing, but sat with her. The scrap of white fabric in her pocket felt like it weighed a ton, and she realised she was still bloody, still armored. Probably still smelled like dead vampires. She stood from the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia paused, but moved to help her. It was unnecessary. As Thalia </span>
  <em>
    <span>reached</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she found more than one hand grab for purchase on the straps. They moved as deft as her flesh hands, doing the job of a squire and more. The armor removed itself and set itself aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t do a thing about the smell,” said Thalia, apologetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It matters not,” said Viconia softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia returned to the embroidery of Imoen. Viconia would’ve recognised it. Perhaps Edwin. The vague jumble of colours: midnight blue cloak, orange hair, pink tunic. There was no face yet. The other stitches were crooked enough. Thalia could almost hear Imoen’s sly huffy voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you wanted to do needlework, you could’ve stayed in Candlekeep, miseryguts. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No matter what, get Imoen out,” whispered Thalia. Tears burned unshed, but she wouldn’t cry in front of Viconia. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia set her own down — the Underdark, her faceless brother. Her face was dark and unreadable. “I will not make that oath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just, know that it’s what I want. If I fall… someone needs to ensure Imoen survives.” Thalia couldn’t finish. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Imoen will be good for you, better than me. She’ll teach you to smile again, listen to your pain, hold you and squeeze until your ribs croak. And Imoen will need a sister.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t fall, abbil,” said Viconia curtly. “Too many will make sure of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who will ensure Imoen doesn’t fall?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia had no answer to that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When we </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> survive this,” said Viconia deeply, “what, then? When all this is done? Shall we part and go our separate ways?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shook her head. “We’ll stay together, I swear, probably doing much the same now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, for what?” she persisted. “Heroics? Glory? Honour?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Travel?” she offered. She chose a peach-y beige for Imoen’s hands. “Haer’Dalis wants to see the rest of the prime. I don’t think he understands how big that is. Anomen will probably follow him.” She smiled. “Imoen will take one look at Haer’Dalis and claim him as hers. I will follow her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, I you?” asked Viconia, resigned. “Is that the way of things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imoen will drag you, kicking and screaming if she must.” Thalia laughed, but then she thought of the last one of their number. The least and most. Edwin. She owed him. He would sell her soul to Thay for his position returned — and she would lead armies and soak blood through the earth. The place where the taint hung tingled in anticipation. At least Imoen would have Viconia, and friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia smiled reflexively and returned to her embroidery. “She will, won’t she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia winced and pulled out several stitches. Imoen suddenly had six fingers. She recovered and tied off, working on the other hand. Imoen had a Wand of Magic Missile that she loved. Back in Athkatla, Thalia would have to harass Edwin about procuring one. It was a harmless enough wand, but useful. A long walnut shaft, tipped with a pink ruby crystal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A knock sounded. Viconia stiffened and Thalia answered the door. It was the serving man. Linvail must’ve forbade him from cleaning the blood from his nose. He brought dinner for Viconia and, seeing their armor, promised it cleaned, mended, and returned by morn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stood. “I’ll leave you to eat. Try to get some rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia, wait,” cried Viconia. The urgency left her suddenly and was replaced by a dire frown. “Do I… Have I called upon your divinity for my magics?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked. “No. I haven’t felt it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t tell if the answer disappointed or reassured her. Viconia nodded a curt dismissal and Thalia left, her partial Imoen tucked in her pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia startled as she ran into Yoshimo in the hall. He had the grace to look abashed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cough or something next time,” she said gruffly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes were creased well, not with embarrassment at sneaking up on her but pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s the geas?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo quirked a smile, an old shadow of his grin. “You ask as if about my joints in this brisk weather. I am… alright. For good or ill, we are all trapped in your carriage now, a driven mare dragging where we shall go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can stay, if you want,” she said stiffly. The unflattering comparison left her ruffled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, you misunderstand. I… I admire that,” he said softly. “Your goal, your sister, it is deserving and worthy. Something I’ve expected all along. It’s only…” He licked his lips, uncertain. “We have fought man and beast alike, scrouged for coin at the feet of power, and now… at the end of it all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something on your mind?” Thalia frowned, not understanding his concerns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The future is treacherous, without promise or guarantee of your goals or mine, and owes us nothing — regardless of planning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile grew on her face. “Haer’Dalis got to you, did he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a long journey,” said Yoshimo hollowly. “Forgive me, my friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gasped. “The Great Yoshimo is tired? It cannot be!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not even smile. “Ah, yes, even the Great Yoshimo is only a mortal. Fear not. Weariness shall not dull my blade, nor lessen my fire. I will not falter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she said simply. “I trust you. Please, rest as long as you can. We’ll leave at dawn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as she passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She almost feared what the basement would bring. Had Linvail taken her flippant suggestion too seriously? Did he send a harem along with Tassa? Would Anomen be enraged and horrified at using Thalia as a divine? Would he fall back into drink and fighting and foul mood?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The basement was empty. Haer’Dalis sat at the table, alone. He leaned back in his chair, a strange instrument in his hands. She had seen it only in passing. A curious box of burnished wood, a dozen tines of runed brass glowing. The music held her spellbound and she sat next to him, though he didn’t address her. The song wound tightly, stressful, before relaxing to something softer and haunting. It drifted off and left her feeling empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening,” said Haer’Dalis, pleasantly enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… You cast magic with music, don’t you?” she asked, mouth dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “I do, but I didn’t. Lucky I am my profession is rare enough. This sparrow feels eyes upon him at every turn in this drab land. Truly, he longs to spread his wings and fly anew — at your command, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sighed. “My life doesn’t really allow me to stay any place for long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers found the tines again and he settled into an absent tune. “This life of roaming and roving, hither and yon, it agrees with you, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all I’ve known since I’ve left Candlekeep. Suppose it’s hard to tell if it agrees with me or I simply accept it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fascinating thought,” he said, half to himself. “Are we a product of the world or is our world a product of our preconceptions?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music turned mournful, a lonesome heartbeat. She couldn’t help but think of Candlekeep, its stifling serenity, the hours she and Imoen would waste away on songs and stories. Imoen always dreamed of running off, making Gorion proud as an adventurer. Thalia, more often than not, popped those dreams. It was unrealistic. Fanciful. Safer in home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And home they had left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For my part, this sparrow cannot ever imagine settling,” said Haer’Dalis honestly. “Even his beloved Sigil is no cage for such a bird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told Viconia much the same,” said Thalia with a wry smile. “Once we’re done here, you’ll want to see the </span>
  <em>
    <span>rest of the prime.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweet raven, do I hear mockery in that tone of yours?” The music jolted to a stop and she feared she had stepped too far, but it began again and Haer’Dalis smiled. “You know me well by now. Better than most.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you I,” she said, hardly believing she had done so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music, to her relief, lightened when she thought it could get no darker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To that end, might this sparrow share a thought?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of our number, secrets haunt unspoken words,” he said carefully. “And I well do mistrust secrets whose weight presses in the air.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speak plainly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want a successful battle at Spellhold, I recommend leaving Viconia and Yoshimo behind,” said Haer’Dalis in a single breath. “I’ve my suspicions, which I will gladly share—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viconia is trustworthy. I would stake my life and all others on it.” Thalia licked her lips and bit back her retort. She had to remember that, for most, suspicion of a drow was sensible. Perhaps it even might’ve been for Viconia. “I know her well. If she can keep her secrets, so can Yoshimo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know him so well?” he asked, voice quiet and intense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but I know firsthand the state Irenicus left </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> in. If secretive is what Yoshimo is, it is the least of any sin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis’ music paused, hovering on an inquisitive note. “What state?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia hesitated and wished she could swallow back her words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Each time we speak, I say more in minutes than I have to any for tendays,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to speak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The song continued, but he didn’t pry. The music wandered further away from his question, but took home in her chest regardless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irenicus broke me, quite thoroughly. My memories are a tad loose, but I remember… being lost in the fog, an illusion of the mind… barely drinking and eating. Not knowing what was real. Paranoid of shadows and strangers.” She grimaced. “Still am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis took a hand off the instrument and it rested on her leg. Even through the wool, she felt the unnatural heat. The music continued, simpler, slow and calm. He did not grip her. He did not say a word. She took what she needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am at your disposal, my raven.” His hand squeezed her briefly and returned to his music, musing absently. “Tis the nature of the multiverse to clip wings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s your play about me going?” she asked, eager to push the subject from abstract philosophy and herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis’ smile broadened. “You tell me, my raven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music wove together, a tragedy underpinned by sweeter pockets of hopeful rapid notes. Thalia lowered in her chair and listened. Her heart ached in beat with it. There was such a deep sadness to it, but it pulled from the dark before it became too much. Yet, as before, it drifted away and left her empty and wanting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More,” she whispered, eyes shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis chuckled. The sound made her smile. The song meandered absently and she knew there was no more, not now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve pondered lately on this nature of yours, your feelings of your divinity,” he said. “By this fire that burns so bright and urges you against impossible odds. And I do not think such a passion originates in gods.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The song remained on the notes of hope, something triumphant. It was so cheerful, in fact, that Thalia was surprised it came from Haer’Dalis’ fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something inside you does not allow you to give up, regardless of the odds,” he said determinedly. “Few have I met in all my travels who have the will to drag themselves from a dungeon of horrors with naught but the clothes on their back. You’ve yet not only survived, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrived.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He shook his head. “That is mortal, not divine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had a lot of help,” began Thalia. “Had I not met Edwin—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense!” snapped Haer’Dalis, his music pausing briefly in his surprise. “You ought be proud of how far you’ve come. Though you are not yet satisfied with the view from where we stand, it is a place you have won. A body is only as strong as its backbone. Without you, all these so-called </span>
  <em>
    <span>helpers</span>
  </em>
  <span> are nothing but useless parts searching for a purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sighed and thought on Edwin again. This could all be done in a few days. Imoen, returned safe. Irenicus, dead. And Thalia on her way to Thay. A long journey, to be sure, but without a good view at the end. It was a grand station, nothing she could’ve achieved on her own. Bloodshed. Armies. Everything the taint would thrive in. To hear Haer’Dalis speak, though, she and it were one and the same. Perhaps they were. Blended so thoroughly she didn’t know where one began anymore. The battle had left her with rage, a lusty passionate victory, a fury the serving man had suffered for. She had been reckless with Linvail, empowered by it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis must’ve felt her mood change and the song coaxed her from the thoughts, back into a relaxed melancholy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What will you do, my raven, once yon villain is slain and fair damsel rescued?” he asked, as though having heard her thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Asking of the future? Rather unusual for you, Doomguard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “True, it goes against this sparrow’s nature to plan for anything. It spoils the mystery. It also implies there is in fact a future to contemplate. We both know Death’s fickle and sudden nature.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t thought on it much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither I,” said Haer’Dalis softly. “Mayhaps planning could only make things more difficult, should goals fall apart. Consider our sweet beaten hound.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia realised, as if for the first time, that they were alone. “Where’s Anomen? I told him to ensure you were healing.” She stared. “You had a half dozen spikes in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, briefly this sparrow found himself the hedgehog.” He sighed and the music thrummed a comical drone. “Anomen is abed — not alone. And I have once again found wings, thanks to your blessing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia relaxed again. Haer’Dalis did seem hale and healthy. She did not know the natural complexion for tieflings, but he didn’t look in danger of death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your father’s gifts may or may not have invoked destiny’s path, but it does seem to have barred you from some?” he asked delicately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wish it weren’t true,” she admitted, “but I know in my heart I will never find peace in the way other people may. I’ve no desire to run shops, hammer iron, hoop barrels, fish, or farm, but…” Thalia winced as she realised she was no longer the child who had desperately wanted to remain in Candlekeep. The girl had grown. “Life would be simpler,” she settled on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad I am you know this,” he said gravely, “though it wounds me to know it brings pain. Better for you to find joy in the life you do have, instead of longing for one you know will never come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had to smile. “Is this what you said to Anomen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Among other things.” He sighed deeply. “He, too, wishes to see lands beyond his kingdom’s borders. At times, I wonder if these lands might be worth exploring, but I cannot be certain I wouldn’t be disappointed with what I find beyond your company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying you… want to leave us?” she asked, confused at his choice of words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “Not at this moment, not in the eleventh hour, but entropy overcomes all in the end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his casual tone and song, his words struck a chord.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” said Thalia shortly. “I would miss you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music found a soft natural pausing, his thumbs hovering over the tines. “Tis a strange thing to this Doomguard, but I find myself warmed by your sentiment. Tis mutual.” Again, the song picked up, somber and slow. “As many times as we have encountered success, you must know, too, you are not infallible. For your abilities, you are not immortal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tried to puzzle out his meaning. It sounded almost as though he spoke to himself, trying to remind himself of the fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you concerned for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would it surprise you to hear I am?” he asked. “Tis never a pleasant experience, to see a friend die. I would not mourn your death, but I would mourn the loss of your remarkable company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would mourn your death,” she said quietly, surprised by how his comment hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis set the instrument aside. The sudden quiet felt stifling as he turned in his seat to face her. “Why?” he asked, his voice even. “You know I would ask you to smile, to laugh, even, knowing this sparrow flew into oblivion’s waiting arms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I would not see you again,” she said coolly, thinking of Gorion’s mangled corpse left in the sun. “That’s what death is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Death is a companion. It stalks our footsteps, haunting each doorway we pass under, warm sweet break on our necks. It waits for us, inevitably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His utter calm infuriated her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that all you think about? Death?” she demanded, standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis seemed confused. “Certainly not! My thoughts roam far and wide, and oft on you and this quest we’ve taken upon. Oft on dinner. Battle waits on the dawn — and Death, as well.” He glanced down her. “Death runs in your veins, your soul and very fingertips, my raven. Do not be so at odds with yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers slid along the back of the chair, towards her knuckles, white as she gripped it. His touch was bright and warm, like fire in his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you are about to risk us all to oblivion’s embrace,” said Haer’Dalis with a smile. “You know there is a chance we might not all return. Yet we follow. I have made my peace. Make yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can I?” she whispered. “How can I accept being worthy of a sacrifice like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile slipped away, washing away his amusement and cavalier thoughtfulness. It nearly made him feel normal. “Gorion thought you worthy,” he whispered. “Most deaths are meaningless. Accidents. Illness. Choosing the manner of our end is a rare privilege and honour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears, at the edge of her eyes all night, threatened to spill. “Imoen said something like that once,” said Thalia hollowly. “That, if she died on the road with me, it’d actually mean something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For someone I love and for all the right reasons.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice echoed in the silence, a whisper on the breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Imoen sounds wise.” He smiled. “I look forward to meeting her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently but insistently, he prised her knuckles off the chair and held her hand lightly. She let him guide her back to sit next to him. As he took the instrument back in his lap, she found herself wishing he hadn’t let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For a fledgling goddess of death, you are quite attached to fleeting life,” said Haer’Dalis, amused. The song began, lonesome again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most are. Do you not remember a time when you were?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Death is the only destiny this sparrow knows,” he said with a sigh. “As ever. I wonder, sometimes, on all the time between birth and death as well, but it is not often that any refrain repeats itself. And, yet, here you are again, a muse in all her glory refusing to be cut loose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia frowned, finding herself having to translate the common sentiment from his wandering words. “Would you believe I’ve been thinking about you, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” he asked. The song reflected the tone, a surprised repeat. “Perhaps, then, you understand me when I say hearing such things both worries and excites this sparrow in strange ways. Twas not but a few days past when I spotted a pair of lovers bidding farewell for a final time. The sorrow on the young man’s face was poignant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that all about entropy and celebrating death of all things?” she asked wearily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> normal and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> celebrate it,” he said, brow furrowed, “but that does not mean I am immune to the pains of mortals. Loss and tragedy — the devastation is not lost upon this sparrow. Perhaps, instead, I only accept their place in life rather than resenting them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music deepened, a pair of loving melodies twining together before drifting away. One persevered alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder what tore them apart,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are birds of a feather in this, then. Perhaps he found her with another man, or his heart was torn between two loves. Mayhap it was simply not meant to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not a good enough excuse for anything.” She resettled deeper into the chair, her boots crossed on the table. “We agree, there’s no destiny, no certainty in life aside from death. Then, there’s no </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant to be</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There’s always another way to make things work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, but matters of the heart require two people with equal passion and desire for happiness,” he said thoughtfully. “Difficult enough to convince two people to agree on mundane issues, nevermind anything bloated as emotions.” He sighed. “Though, I suppose you have far more experience with such situations than I, my raven, so you are the wiser.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia snorted. “Are you mocking me? No, I’ve no experience with romance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis hit a bum note. The first one all night. He tried a few more times to pick up the song, but chuckled and rested the instrument in his lap. Thalia felt her ears redden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truly? By the hells, I should’ve writ </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> tragedy,” he said with a grin. “Surely you’ve had opportunities at your disposal. A beautiful lady monk at your monastery? A childhood friend? A dervish in a barroom? Even Aran Linvail has made his advances and options clear enough to us all. Why’ve you kept yourself from such dalliances?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His persistence forced her eyes to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None have pursued me,” she said faintly. “I’ve never went looking for any dalliances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you should. Needn’t look far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia raised her eyes, but Haer’Dalis’ were already back on the instrument. It hadn’t felt like a daring contest, much as he must’ve made with Anomen to share a woman. It… had sounded like an offer. Thalia didn’t know what to do with it, what the appropriate reaction was. Did he expect something? Surely not tonight, on the eve of battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Absorbed and peaceful with his melancholy music, there was an intensity to him. He was not handsome the way Anomen might be, but more interesting to look at. Hair shifting in the light. Silvered blue, eyes of the same. Curled pointed ears studded with steel. Strong and quick. An actor, easily able to manipulate others’ perceptions of him as he wished. A philosopher of alien beliefs. Thinking that the planeswalker could only desire her for her heritage tasted a lie. Yet, what interest could such a man have in her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music wove again into a rhythm Thalia began to recognise as her song, a refrain from the ballad he had written on her. Stately and sorrowful, tragic with pockets of dire hope. It coaxed her to relax and she shut her eyes, lost in it. Her head slid against the chair and leaned against an arm, solid and strong and burning with a heat within.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia woke well before Haer’Dalis. She didn’t know if, like elves, tieflings slept different. The song might’ve lulled her to a dreamless sleep, but he had surrendered himself to it, too. And hers did not stay dreamless for long. Imoen and Candlekeep haunted her relentlessly, twisted and tormented. Thalia was startled she hadn’t woken him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She woke with his arm tossed around her, her head pressed to his chest. It was an odd feeling. She didn’t know what to do with it. She and Imoen might’ve slept in an unceremonial clump at times. Perhaps, whilst on the road, Thalia had bumped into Khalid and slept alongside him. It was different, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For one, Haer’Dalis was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweltering.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thalia found herself wishing she had had a tiefling during Candlekeep’s coldest winters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gingerly, she detangled herself and stood. He breathed deep and even, readjusting against his chair. Even in sleep, his face seemed intense and odd, though the oddness had begun to be familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia groaned softly at the stiffness and trudged upstairs. The skies outside were still dark, streaming in silvery moonlight across the marble. The air in Athkatla, especially as the season wore on, was too arid for her tastes. Still, the walled gardens would be brisk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Movement jerked above her and Thalia’s heart stopped in her throat. Anomen. He sat on the roof of the gazebo, boots skittering on the glass in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to give me a hand?” she asked once her heart had steadied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen pulled her up and she settled alongside him. The roof had a fine look over the seas. The moon hung low and the first flicker of dawn threatened the horizon, blue bleeding the first spark of pink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite a view you’ve found.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The innocent comment only highlighted what hung heavy between them. Thalia couldn’t even look at him. Thankfully, there was much more to look at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have been thinking about the Order,” said Anomen. In his uncertainty and hurt venom, he sounded quite young. “I’ve decided I’m well rid of them. I cannot believe I wasted so much of my life on such ignorant fools!” He shook his head. “All the work and training, countless times proving myself over </span>
  <em>
    <span>and over</span>
  </em>
  <span>, only to discover a life of denial and thankless deeds not for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’ve had that burden lifted,” she said tentatively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” he said with a private ironic smile. “My chains have been lifted and I can experience all in life I have so virtuously denied myself. For the first time, I can put myself first. Good food, wine, women!” He laughed, but it was not a pleasant one. “Adventure and the world and good deeds without the need to prove myself, to know my own worth. I’m… happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had to smile. She hadn’t expected him to find such joy in being denied a knighthood. “That’s good to see. You could use a little freedom, at times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, I could. Too long has this wretched knight frowned and growled and postured.” He spat over his far shoulder. “I’ve had enough of it. I long to laugh and, by Helm…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The instinctive curse drew the curtain back again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By Helm, I will,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced, wishing she knew what to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen stiffened and withdrew, his mouth writing a thin line. “Thalia, we must truly talk about… about what I did in those catacombs, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We must do nothing,” she said calmly. Her eyes latched onto the pink in the sky. She would have a lot to say to Imoen in a few nights’ time. “If it would make you feel better, of course, go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hadn’t even considered looking for another god,” he said softly. “Helm and his tenets were… well, quite frankly they suit me. Be vigilant and honourable. Protect those in need. He was my mother’s god, </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> god. The Watcher protected me and Moira from Cor many a time. A bulwark against the chaos at home. In many ways, Helm himself led me to the Order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia pulled up a knee and resisted the urge to comment. She didn’t want to steer him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He betrayed me,” said Anomen. The words held no anger for him anymore. Only pain, an old wound festering. She felt it, on the edge of his consciousness. “He threw me aside, abandoned my prayers.” He hung his head. “What are your thoughts on this… on our situation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia opened and shut her mouth several times before shrugging. “I don’t know what you need or how to even be that,” she said quietly. “I wish I did. I’d give it in a heartbeat. Even if we are to entertain the idea of you worshipping Murder, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> am not a god. I have no church, no dogma, no followers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t go crawling back to Helm,” he swore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you too proud to seek absolution?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too honourable to ask forgiveness for what does not need it,” he said instead. “I was not in the wrong. If it costs me Helm, I will stand by Moira to my last breath.” He took her hands. In the morning chill, they were like ice. “Regardless, even before this, my lady, you have been my flaming guide in this darkness my life has become. You have been by my side all this time. You’ve pointed the true direction and let me make the decision.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chill dropped down Thalia’s spine that had nothing to do with the weather. “Th-Thank you, you mean much to me, too. Being with me to help save Imoen. But—” She turned, seeking words in the sky and sea, but Anomen’s sincerity drew her back. “What do you want from me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to make you a vow,” said Anomen seriously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s lips parted and her tongue leadened in her mouth. “I wouldn’t even know what to have you say! I-I-I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Watcher</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’ve less than one-hundredth of the divinity of Murder. I’m nothing! Perhaps, on occasion, you could borrow some power to heal—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> healed anyone from wounds as grave as those,” he whispered. “Haer’Dalis… he was gone past the power of all but the highest clerics. And it was effortless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It almost knocked me out,” she said bluntly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen smiled. Thalia couldn’t return it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are not like the gods, true, but that is a good thing. You sacrifice yourself for your allies. You know a battlefield as a warrior with their life on the frontline. You grieved when you lost your father. You pain when your sister is—” He winced, hands knotting with hers. “If you refuse, then accept my pledge as my patron. Not divine, merely a pledge of service.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how to make you a paladin,” she said. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not looking to become a wind-up tin soldier of righteousness, parroting dogma,” he said scathingly. Anomen sighed and dropped their hands. “I want to serve something worthy of me,” he said. “I want to serve where I’m wanted, my work appreciated. Life will move on and I won’t be caught adrift in its tides.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slid a sweaty hand down her face. “Stop speaking with the sparrow. It’s rubbing off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen ignored her attempt at pith. “I won’t again be a single servant among thousands — tens of thousands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And so, you are one of five,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you claim the relationship you share with me is kin to what you have with Viconia or Edwin?” asked Anomen, a smile curling him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” She grimaced. “Haven’t you ever had a comrade in arms? Someone to fight alongside?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and this is nothing like that.” His smile left him, his eyes reflecting the waters. “I understand, if you feel differently, as I’ve no family left, nothing to return to after this—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither do I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen nodded, eyes shut. “Perhaps then, we’ll have each other.” His eyes snapped open hastily. “Forgive me, I did not mean to sound as though I had an interest romantically — nor that you are unfit for such attentions.” He groaned and his hands curled into fists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia laughed. It felt good to laugh after the long days. “Don’t worry. I don’t have any interest, not that you are unfit for such attentions.” The smile lingered on her. “I have a feeling we’ll be at each other’s side, better or worse for some time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For worse,” he repeated grimly. “Hells willing, we won’t have much more </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sighed. The pink spark had grown across the sky, a fast-spreading threat of dawn. “I don’t know where I’m going or what’s going to happen — with Spellhold, with the taint.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither do I. All I know is that I will be with you when it happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen jumped down from the roof and extended his hand. Dread mounted in Thalia. She gave the sky one last look before the trees and garden wall stole it from her. She dropped down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Anomen seemed a little less certain about the whole ordeal. He dropped to a knee. “By the service of my arm, by the beating of my heart, by the promise of my lips, I pledge myself to you for so long as you would have me,” he said sincerely. “I swear myself to Thalia of Candlekeep. I will defend those who cannot defend themselves. I will uphold justice where the law fails. I will live a life free of regret. No god will have my prayers, for they are unworthy. May the stars bear witness to my oath and the hells take me should I fail in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Thalia’s great relief, the swell in her chest was of an utterly mortal emotion and nothing of the taint. The flickering consciousness — a tremble of a connection between them — dampened. Anomen’s dark eyes shone in the faint dawn. Was this what Helm dared reject? An earnest fury, always well-meaning, if boisterous and a tempest if unleashed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt Anomen waited for a response, but she couldn’t have said what sort. Heart heavy, she rested a hand on his shoulder. “I accept this oath,” she whispered. “So long as it is kept, I will guard you and honour its word. And not lead you astray. I will stand by you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no whisper in the trees, no awakening of the taint. It was only a promise between friends, as dramatic as the fallen squire had wanted.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Spellhold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Glass… Glassware. Once, she had known the names for the different sorts of bottles. One might’ve stored potions. Another wine. Another… not ale, but kin to it. And what was that colour? The muddle of all others. Did it even have a name? The colour of the barn cat, of soiled hay, of Mr G’s hair before it went all green. Green? That wasn’t right either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia wrenched at the stream of thoughts. It held her mind as fast as her body. Both had frozen under a greater command than her own will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen woke on the floor of a glass… bottle. A jar in the shape of a bell. Faintly green, roving with sparking lightning. The crackling startled her from the lightest sleep. Pain thrummed in every inch, such a close companion she couldn’t feel it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world tinted green, but a dozen other similar jars held men. Some smashed fists or daggers against their prisons. Useless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened. Imoen did not have the strength to stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awaken, child. It is time for another test.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That </span>
  <em>
    <span>voice</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Flat, cold, eerie, and vacant of any mortal emotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…. p-please,” she whispered. The words didn’t seem to come from her. “I can’t take this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patience, Imoen,” said Irenicus wearily. “Soon, it will all end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There might’ve even been regret in the cold voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” screamed a man. “Don’t! I don’t wanna die!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irenicus turned, boredom in every feature. “Silence. You have no purpose </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> to die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A spell began to build. Irenicus used words — sounds no living creature should’ve been allowed to make. One by one, greyish fingers took components from his belt. White fires devoured them. Ash filtered through the grates on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bottles’ lightning roared, flashing like fireworks. The men died and, with each, the spell garnered new strength. An invisible whirlwind dominated the room, circling Him. He was not pleased with the performance, nor critical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spell ended and ripped through Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia felt it. The agony of being stretched taunt and then shivering back in horror. Imoen murmured senselessly. It was just a cat didn’t like her petting it. That was all. The pain vibrated. Cat claws. Clawing through her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are nearly ready for her, Imoen,” said Irenicus. “She will be pleased.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia awoke sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She put a hand to her chest, panting. The pain was in her head, but she wrestled to pull her mind back. The room had no meaning to her. Wooden panels? Why did it sway? And that smell. Salty and wet…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia lay back in bed, eyes shut, and forced herself to breathe evenly through her teeth. Only a dream. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Galante</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a scuttly-looking merchant ship captained by Saemon Havarian. Introductions had been brief that early morn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be a day and a night until Spellhold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had had noble intentions upon boarding. She wouldn’t let Aran Linvail out of her sight. She would stay on deck, watching for the first shadow of Spellhold on the horizon. And then she found the sea to disagree with her. The warbling and uneven footing turned her stomach dreadfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above her, the revelry hadn’t even begun to quiet. The sailors drank like… well, sailors. They gambled and boasted rumours of far-off lands. More than one made sticky advances — either for her person or Aurora. Had she been able to walk, she would’ve broken a nose or three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wave slapped the hold and Thalia groaned. The door opened and the captain entered with a bowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brought you dinner, girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia pitched over and reached for the bucket. Nothing but a burning vile liquid came up. The revolting feeling left her breathless. It was almost enough to plea for the dreams to take her away again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saemon crouched low and set the bowl down. “Nice vegetable broth,” he said. “With some greens. Aran’s men restocked us — after Spellhold, it’s Maztika for us. Months of blank sea ahead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia didn’t know why, but she didn’t like the look of his smile. The glint of a gold tooth reflected in his eyes. It was a greedy false smile, but she couldn’t give a damn if pirates or merchant sailors took her. After the Shadowmaster, pirates would be a welcome exchange. Less urbane charm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached for the bowl and sipped. Lukewarm, delicately spiced with ginger, it soothed her stomach. She nodded her thanks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d make a fine captain,” said Saemon. “Cowards for captains, all of us. Gold always relieves much of fear’s sting, though, eh? Still, there’s the reefs, pirates—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And smugglers,” said a darker voice behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia took one look at Aran Linvail and collapsed back into bed. Part of her didn’t want him to see her like this, with a sheen of shaky sweat on her brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smugglers, Aran?” asked Saemon, aghast. “I won’t have you besmirch my reputation in front of fine strangers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the captain’s ship—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the fine stranger’s gold. Out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saemon scowled, but did as he was told. Linvail watched him with a close eye. It made her feel better about her suspicions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she croaked. “Assassins don’t trust smugglers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made a decision,” he said coolly. “Speed over safety. Saemon is one of the finest smugglers of the Sea of Swords. Yet he is also the cheapest. He works not for coin but the thrill. His loyalty is never assured.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twenty thousand is </span>
  <em>
    <span>cheap?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail smirked. “You really must get over that little number.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted and reached for the bucket. The broth returned upwards, its ginger warmth not so pleasant any longer. She wiped her mouth and winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look well,” she snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail sat on her bed. Seeing him out of his fine clothes still surprised her. In the common blacks, with a belt of daggers and another of tiny vials whose contents she could only guess at, none would think him one of the most powerful men south of Waterdeep. Truly, out of the corner of her eye, he looked much like Bhaal, if Amnian. Ordinary, but with a coldness about the eyes. She misliked how it comforted her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had seen him board with a dozen other Shadow Thieves, though not since. Nothing magical. They dogged the shadows at the edge of sight. Skilled. Armed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have some hours, likely, to recover fully on Spellhold,” he promised. “The island has a port. Not quite a village and frequented by pirates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sat up and reached for rest of the broth. It slid easily down. “I’ll be ready. Worry about yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” he said dryly. “I worry Renal will make a horrid Shadowmaster, or Mask will ignore him utterly and choose a random gutterthief from Maurin fleeing the Lord Massi who sought his life after bedding his bride on his wedding night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stopped slurping to choke a laugh. “Was that you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me? Oh, never.” Linvail stood with a small smile. “No matter how bad the sea sickness gets, please avoid from pitching yourself off the edge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything succumbs to entropy at some point,” she said somberly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail cocked his head and gave her a strange look before retreating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia smirked to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in a long time, luck seemed to be on her side. The ship arrived in good time and she managed to keep the soup down. Hunger and worse churned inside her. Night flooded the island and dock in silvery light. Thalia accepted an awkward hand from Yoshimo as they made their way onto the docks. She spotted Linvail’s men only a moment before they folded among the docks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saemon seemed far more unsteady on the still land. “Ah! Friends — and Aran — we have arrived! Congratulations to our visitors for the delightful company. Apologies for the rough waters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glowered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We had to make the best of it.” Yoshimo chuckled. “I’ve managed to win a fair amount of coin from your crew at cards. You must be very well-traveled. I haven’t found yet a pair of matching coins!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mayhaps I’ll hire you as a cook,” said Saemon with a hearty laugh. “Never seen my men so blatantly robbed and smile about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You dealt with those pirates well,” said Linvail as the others followed close behind. “Flashing magelights to communicate in their code. Clever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only mimicked what I’ve seen before,” said Saemon humbly. “Perhaps in pirate I called their mother a pregnant rothe with horn-rust!” He laughed. “Only proves the short lives and shorter wits of pirates. One must always be a step ahead of adversaries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And a step behind their friends,” said Yoshimo with a cool smile. “I trust nothing will happen to hamper our success?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia might’ve been weak, but she didn’t miss the way Yoshimo set her behind him. She leant against the dock post. Linvail, as ever, had rested a casual hand on his dagger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have done what I can,” said Saemon. “It has been a pleasure sailing in your company, but now, I take my leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The familiar droning hiss warned her a split second before the portals screamed open. Linvail tossed a dagger as Saemon stepped through, but three more stepped out. Thalia recognised only the first. Valen, the vampire sent to deliver Bodhi’s offer. Vampires.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo reacted in a blink, striking his sun blade Glint through two before they even fully materialized. Valen started, shocked, but the sun blade met her, too. Undead flesh hissed and spluttered. The body parts twitched on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Satisfied, Yoshimo sheathed his sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia exchanged a wry look with Haer’Dalis. “Thank you, Yoshimo,” she said loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you smell that, my raven?” asked Haer’Dalis sharpish. “The salty-sweet perfume of betrayal wafts over. Shadowmaster, how did you not see that coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not expect something so bold from Saemon,” said Linvail bitterly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nor, in truth, did I,” said Haer’Dalis. “Never did he strike me so direct, but perhaps I have misjudged where he aimed the dagger. At least we have arrived in relative safety.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The luggage still has much to accomplish,” said Viconia scathingly, “if he cannot hit a retreating back with a thrown dagger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My task was to get you to Spellhold,” said Linvail with a curt nod. “Spellhold, in case you’ve yet to see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The castle had been worn by the spray of salt and sea, worn smooth at the hardest edges. Tall spires remained sharp as they jutted into the black skies. It was an impressive keep by all means.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those vampires belonged to Bodhi,” said Yoshimo as they continued down the docks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would be more stunned if they did not,” said Linvail dryly. “She hasn’t expected me to come. Whether that was wise or foolish, we shall see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia thought calling the shanty any sort of village was highly generous. A handful of weather-beaten white stucco buildings huddled around the base of the rocks. Along a treacherous winding path, Spellhold awaited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Selune’s at her brightest,” muttered Linvail distastely. “A bright silver dollar and bane of thieves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin scoffed from behind them. “Rescuing an innocent child out of the kindness and mercy in our hearts is about the most revoltingly paladin-like action there may be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Breaking into the Cowls’ prison. Thief work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do we get up there?” asked Thalia, glancing up the path. While it wound up the rocky cliffs like a pale string, there didn’t seem to be a beginning to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a contact, a merchant who brings goods to Spellhold.” Linvail smiled. “A ride in the turnips isn’t the most dignified, but what is a little more dignity lost?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia flushed, but followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tavern stunk of the sea, the smell molding and concentrated within. Disreputable sailors lacked a bard, but made their own music with grunts from their fights and rough laughter. In that, at least, it looked little different to the Copper Coronet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sanik!” called Linvail. He gave the merchant a bright smile and greeted him like a brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr Aran,” said a remarkably small man of the quantity of moustache he carried. “I didn’t expect you until morn. And these are your… ah, associates?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are among pirates and your tongue stumbles on the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>thief?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> asked Yoshimo with a broad grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanik pushed his spectacles up, his glance darting. “Yes, well, don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased you arrived so soon. Sooner the better, I say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’s that?” asked Anomen with a shrewd eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Providing for Spellhold is steady work, but my new bride and I would rather sell goods somewhere… drier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From whom do you flee?” asked Linvail. His smile didn’t alter, though his voice did. “You are among friends, though perhaps not for much longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail cast a hand into thin air suddenly. A thin magical shield pulsed against an arrow. The arrow slid straight through and took Sarik in the neck. Blood poured through and the man collapsed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tavern didn’t seem all that disturbed. Around Thalia, the battle was started and won before she could even recognise who had been killed. Thalia knew better than to let despair overwhelm her. Rather, her weariness and lingering seasickness dropped her at the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barmaid stared, horrified, and, almost reflexively, took her copper and drew an ale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bitch Queen’s saggy right tit, an assassin in the Vulgar Monkey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We had almost finished with him!” exclaimed Edwin. He pawed through Sarik’s corpse again and dropped the limp man on the floor. “The assassin might’ve waited another hour and we couldn’t have cared less. Thalia! Raise this bumbling merchant!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia drank her ale. Thick, bubbly, and spiced like the Amnians liked. It instilled a little strength in her. Enough to ignore Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The poison on these arrows, it’s what we use. No god will resurrect this,” said Linvail. “No magic could’ve stopped it either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The assassin that foiled your plot was one of your own flesh, nightingale?” asked Haer’Dalis with characteristic interest. Thalia could hear him taking note for a ballad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He likely purchased from us.” Linvail sighed. “At least I was paid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He mentioned a bride,” said Thalia. “Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barmaid grasped for her wits. “A slip of a girl, one of Galvena’s whores — pardon, pleasure slaves. Emphasis on </span>
  <em>
    <span>slave</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She shrugged. “Girl married that merchant and tried to leave. Sanik scorned Galvena all up in the town square. You should’ve heard him. Oh, he gave that old three-nippled witch a—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” said Thalia. “Another ale. And a cracker or something. Where is this girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barmaid all but threw the half-stale bread at her. “Galvena took her back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia chewed the rough bread and swallowed back the drink. Her stomach began to settle and a degree of stability returned to her vision. She feared her wits’ return. Somewhere on this isle, Imoen was still victim to hideous tortures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are we going to sneak into this place?” asked Thalia as they left the tavern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sneak?” asked Linvail incredulously. “Into a </span>
  <em>
    <span>whorehouse?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He gave her a look she only tolerated when it came from Edwin. “We will pay the hard-working slaves of the isle for their time and, if they happen to tell us a thing or two when their mouths are not full, who is harmed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave it to me and my hound, nightingale,” said Haer’Dalis with a certain satisfaction. “This lost bride shall find herself spirited a second time from the den of horror and pleasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That, again,” said Anomen. “When exactly did I become </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> hound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> sparrow, tis only fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen stammered and glared, but he had no witty answer to that. Linvail at least seemed amused. He led them to the whorehouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me accompany you, my friend,” said Yoshimo, undeterred by Haer’Dalis’ hard glare. “While I would not wish to intrude, I have drawn secrets from lovers of stone—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thankfully, these will be merely flesh and we have no need of your talents, parrot,” he said coldly. “Anomen, come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make sure you tip,” Linvail told them as they entered. He chewed on his lip as he thought, his eyes locked on Selune above. “I’ve another idea, in case Sanik didn’t leave anything of worth to his whore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail took off down another road. It began to approach the dense nest of rocks, slippery with water. After a few minutes, the docks were all but gone. The thin winding road up to Spellhold didn’t seem high away anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dimensional Door?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> asked Thalia with a look to Edwin. The spell had once proved very useful, as Saemore had demonstrated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The distance is too great — a limit of the spell, not my talents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The drow are magnificent climbers,” drawled Viconia. “A happenstance of living in the Underdark. For the commoners, magical dweomers are crafted to shoot bolts as though from a hand crossbow and then recoil the rope to pull the caster to his destination. Nobility, of course, can levitate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes,” said Edwin snidely. “And, tell me, Viconia, do you have one of these marvelous devices? If you levitate to the height, do you have any rope?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could drag you by your nostril hairs, male.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail frowned at Thalia. “Have they come to blows — or a bed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither.” She sighed. “I’m holding out hope they will all simply get along one day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t hold your breath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might be surprised,” she said dryly. “Sometimes, we get through a day without any threats against personhood or dignity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail rose a skeptical eyebrow, but they had arrived at their destination. Protected from the wind and worst of the sea spray, an odd neighbourhood clustered against the rocks. They almost looked homey. From one, smoke curled from its roof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Burglary?” asked Yoshimo with a smile. “I’d be delighted to assist you, Master Shadow...master.” He trailed off, abashed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Cowls don’t live up in Spellhold,” explained Linvail. “They use wardstones to teleport back and forth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we intend on </span>
  <em>
    <span>borrowing</span>
  </em>
  <span> these stones?” asked Thalia sarcastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Linvail gave her that stupid look again. “No, I intend to kill them and rob them. Care to join me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Have fun, assassin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Killing is in both of our lines of work,” said Linvail, surprised. “Even runs in your blood—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silence, rivvil.” Viconia inspected the door of the house nearest. “Thalia has odd ways of showing favour. We shall join you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even Edwin followed the Shadowmaster — whether to curry favour or just kill Cowled Wizards, she wasn’t sure. Thalia waited at the edge of the sheltered neighbourhood. The night was silent and heavy for it, oppressive alone. Nowhere on the island could any escape the clap of the seas or the cold wetness in the air. Linvail’s shadows itched her paranoia with certainty. One crawled through an open window, another down the chimney. Several hung on rooftops, just out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Already, Thalia loathed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greetings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spun — and almost relaxed. It could’ve been Linvail, creeping on up behind her to give her a fright for her remark. It wasn’t one of his men either. The stranger might’ve worn blacks, delicate gloves and soft boots for sneaking, but his face was almost moon-like in the dark. Strange, round, pale, and ageless. He held a strange sword at his side. Long and needle-like, it had a blood-red glow and Thalia instantly knew to be afraid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She caught sight of an amulet at his neck, a jawless skull on a purple starburst. “Piss off,” she snapped. “I’ve no patience for Cyricists.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet you will suffer me.” His smile was more frightening than the blade. “Plenty have an interest in you. Even with my powers, I am not the most of them, though hardly the least.” He nodded. “Shar keeps an eye by her cleric, Mask by his Chosen. And more hide, invisible, out of your eye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had suspected, since she had felt Anomen pray for access to the taint. The flow of power and connection went both ways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let them watch.” Every muscle taught, she attempted nonchalance and leaned on the building nearest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What spine,” the Cyricist said approvingly, “especially since you are in no position to refute the eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re here to give me cryptic warnings, you better </span>
  <em>
    <span>poof</span>
  </em>
  <span> away before I make you sit on that sword.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Cyricist’s smile grew. “Oh, is that Bhaal in there? Hello! Shame you missed the celebrations all had when Murder died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised the sword and the glow smoked, a faint warble in the air. The point hovered and graced the edge of her cheek. Against her will, Thalia flinched under the assault of memories. She wondered if the stranger could hear her heartbeat pounding, if he knew what he had invoked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irenicus waited for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. No.” He sighed. “You’ll be easy prey, when the time comes. Powerful, but so are the rest. Biting, but so many others have teeth. Brave, but the cowards died out already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many other Bhaalspawn remain?” she asked in spite of herself. “Who in the hells are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thousands were born,” he said errantly. “Hundreds survived to their first kill. Today, we will be below one hundred. Remarkable. Where have the years gone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be the hundredth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither will you be the last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia nodded. Perhaps it was Haer’Dalis, or Bhaal, but the thought of a nice mortal death didn’t seem so scary as it once was. “Hopefully not, but I’m still alive now, and I can smite your pasty—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had vanished. The rogue, the sword, the ageless face. The fear trembled at her, but the sea sickness covered it with a sickly blanket. Her stomach turned with the bread and ale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One wardstone — and a dozen robes nearly as red as our friend here’s,” said Yoshimo brightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin carried an egg-like object, smooth like a river rock, but runes glowed a flashing white. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted her acknowledgement, but continued to scan the darkness. Nothing remained, not even a whisper of a magical teleportation. She followed them down back to the docks, mind far away. The stranger hadn’t given a name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen and Haer’Dalis comforted a young woman, sobbing full into Anomen’s shoulder. Haer’Dalis seemed to glow with residue of his magic. He spoke with a harried-looking man with a grit of grey stubble. They wrung hands and Anomen shuffled the woman off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The whore bride?” asked Edwin indelicately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another lost wren.” Haer’Dalis sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her cousin knew little of the island or asylum,” said Anomen. “Aside that the deviants don’t ever come out. New Cowled Wizards from Athkatla come by nightly, but I don’t expect we’ll have much trouble with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail smiled grimly. “We killed the locals. Looks like our clock is ticking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin inspected the wardstone with beady eyes. “Let it tick. We shall be off with the pink rat long before these reinforcements arrive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Linvail directed them to a featureless face of rock, Edwin continued to mutter. Enough Common speckled it that Thalia got the gist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve plenty of spells prepared, I hope,” she said, confused. “What would you want more time for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shot her a glare, as though it were a private conversation she interrupted. “Your Imoen has a very basic interest in the art. While her powers are kin to gnats alongside myself, she… she might put a common mage to test.” He pursed his lips. “She would benefit from a few hours to prepare a number of spells.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but she lost her spellbook—” Thalia stopped walking. Her face softened, agape. “You wrote her spell scrolls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin turned back, hateful at the idea he could ever be considerate. “Even if it is ninety pounds of ratty orange hair and sodden pink cloth, I will not abide dead weight! I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Edwin,” said Linvail in a measured voice. “The wardstone, if you will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Edwin shut his mouth and chanted. The random pulsing runes on the stone shifted and became rhythmic. As he tossed it, it levitated and tuned. The featureless blank wall of rock groaned and trembled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And collapsed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rock grew rows of sleekly polished stairs, as though cut by an expert stonemason. The path up to the fortress of Spellhold was open to them.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Her</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The path up to Spellhold proved treacherous. The wet rock grew slippery moss and, in places, the path thinned to little more than a handspan. It crumbled into shards at a step. Not long ago, there had been a battle to weaken it. As soon as Thalia realised it, her eyes and hands roved over the marks. Spells had chipped away holes or melted the solid rock to magma, solidifying into something as soft as smooth as glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A battle of powerful mages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>High above and only growing larger, Spellhold loomed over the isle and sea. At times it disappeared behind a turn and Thalia would become irrationally fearful. Yet it always returned, closer than before. The outer keep opened easily to the wardstone. No battle had wrecked the inner courtyards and gardens. Undisturbed gargoyles watched with sightless eyes alongside neat rows of stoneflowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thick quiet made her feel like they were being watched. Eager to stretch his wings, the bird circled the castle. It looked deserted. Not a single flicker of movement. Even so, it was a maze of mystery and delight for him. Cold braziers glittered in the starlight like diamonds. The parallel lines pleased him and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could distract her further, Thalia dismissed the bird to… wherever he went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clouds overtook the moon, dimming the silvery light and casting the path into darkness. Linvail visibly relaxed. Edwin cast a magelight and they continued safely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t think a hardened killer would be so superstitious,” said Anomen, smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would be, if you knew the power the gods have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen’s glee slipped off. “I know well what cavalier damage a god may wreck on mortal lives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail glanced backwards. “Perhaps you should respect them, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would, if any were worthy of it. Tell me, then, of your so-called patron—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet,” said Thalia sharply, partially to protect Anomen’s neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Edwin worked the wardstone one last time, the portcullis raised with a monotonous grinding. Chains crawled back like snakes. The path cleared. And the vast iron doors opened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the bright golden light within, a hooded figure in grey robes approached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There must still be coordinators on duty,” said Yoshimo swiftly. “Cowled Wizards. Perhaps, if we play along a moment, we could gain access.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blood is easy to spill,” countered Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harder to clean up,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Cowled Wizard approached. A young elf, though all elves looked young. A thin pale gold hair exposed his pointed ears and sharp, clean features. His dimples pinched with a professional smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, I have been wondering when you would be sent,” he said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were… expecting me?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” The elf narrowed his eyes. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> the other member of the disturbance of Waukeen’s Promenade? I understand my fellows might make paperwork into a labyrinth, but there is always a right way to do things. Good to see it has panned out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia relaxed a margin. Jaheira had filed those papers months ago, but abandoned it. “I’m relieved, too. What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused. “Joneleth. I’m the night coordinator here.” He raised a hand. “Would you like a tour?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to see Imoen.” She swallowed, but the words burst out. “I’m taking her home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joneleth frowned, crestfallen. “I am sure you are brimming with concern, but I promise. She is in good health. Despite what you may be told, this is not a prison. Rather, an institution of healing and learning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face burned. “She was arrested and stolen here against her—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin wrenched Thalia by the arm to shut her up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most residents come to us by violent means, I’m afraid,” said Joneleth. “It’s a terrible circumstance, but we can’t often find such people before accidents befall them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She wasn’t violent, she didn’t—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me,” snapped Joneleth without forgiveness, “but Waukeen’s Promenade was left in ruins, dozens of Cowled Wizards dead, a score of civilians </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The professional smile returned. “I’m sorry, but it’s not as simple as all that. I’m sure you’ll understand once you’ve met some of the residents. Please, follow me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joneleth turned his back and walked pleasantly down the hall. Thalia moved to follow, but Edwin held her fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silence is the virtue of fools — one I thought you prided yourself on your sole mastery,” he said in a low voice. “Exercise it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If they don’t let me take her peacefully, I will gut everyone who stands in my way,” she hissed. “Now, get off me. I’ve come too far to be nice about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Linvail, Yoshimo, Anomen, and Viconia had followed Joneleth inside, only Haer’Dalis lingered in the courtyard. The charming gold light within cast his face in odd colours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you feel that?” he whispered. “Thalia, something… something is very wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something’s always wrong,” she said unwillingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ahead, Joneleth explained the construction of Spellhold to Yoshimo’s polite questioning. Thalia silently thanked him for being the only one here with enough wits to do this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is different. This is…” Words failed the poet. “You should not have ventured into this cage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he said it, she felt it. The invisible walls of a trap closing in. It was too convenient to think they could get Imoen out without more bloodshed. Perhaps Joneleth had already alerted the mainland Cowled Wizards. Perhaps they had not managed to contain Irenicus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had no choice,” said Thalia weakly. “I have to find Imoen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lie to yourself if you must,” he said in a hard voice, “but do not dare to think you may convince me there was no other path. You could easily have chosen elsewise — a thousand elsewhile roads. Now, I fear, we will fall prey to whatever haunts these halls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within Spellhold, the braziers danced with merry golden magelights. No shadow was left unchased by dancing light. Every piece of bare stone had been attended, painted or hung with tapestries displaying soothing landscapes and exciting scenes. Nothing gory, nothing bloody, nothing erotic or tasteless. Exotic beasts, knights in shining armor, the common gods of Amn. It was all so pleasant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis was a bundle of nerves, tensed and coiled like a spring. His eyes darted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never seen you like this,” she said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is usually only life in danger,” he said, swallowing his tremor. “While I’ve little imminent desire — despite what you and others may think — to greet Death outside your touch, that is not what waits in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sparrow fears a cage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her use of his self-given name wrung a fraction of tension from his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” said Haer’Dalis. “There are fates far worse than death.” He winced. “And yet the wren awaits. There is little to do from here but step into the yawning unknown. At least one thing is as it should be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “I am at your side, my raven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As am I,” said Edwin loudly from behind them, “but you don’t see me simpering on about my current locality to this halfbred barbarian. Some facts need not be given air, nor require wasting but half as many words as you ascribe them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia smiled in anticipation of a retort, but none came. Haer’Dalis controlled his fear, but he had nothing to say to Edwin’s taunts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joneleth turned them down another grand corridor. The doors were all but invisible, their handles easy to see if you knew where to look. “The Residence for the Magically Deviant houses many, all of whom benefit from a structured environment,” he droned on. “They may also be studied, such is the hopes that their conditions are better understood and assisted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They paused in front of a particular door. Within, a child no older than ten played with a basket of cloth blocks. She seemed ordinary. Well-fed. Her clothes were clean, her hair washed. Cared for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take young Dili, here,” said Joneleth. “At a remarkably young age, she learned to shape the illusion of magical energy, allowing her to change appearance at will. She was cast from her family and found on the streets of Athkatla.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A hard life for one so young,” said Yoshimo, aghast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl heard their voices and turned, grinning. She had lost her two front teeth. “Have you new faces? Tomorrow, I will be you, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Dili’s teeth filled in. Her mouth grew, changing, and her face broadened and thickened, tanning to a copper. Details filled in as the change spread over her arms and legs. Birthmarks, scars, sunspots. Yoshimo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A wonderfully useful gift,” said Linvail, eyeing the child. “One that should be left to flourish, if you would have my opinion. Shame I hadn’t found her first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, she is safe,” said Joneleth, “and others have learned something of what she does. It will be invaluable information among our order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail nodded pensively, surely thinking of purchasing the information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joneleth exchanged words in Amnian through the invisible door across the hall. He smiled at them. “This is Wanev,” he said. “He used to be the night coordinator before I. Too much exposure to open Weave, I suspect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“EH?” exploded a voice within. The older man stormed from his cozy reading nook in the corner and waggled his book. Not at Joneleth, but at one none could see. “What do you want? This isn’t good enough! I want this hall spotless, I said. Don’t you stare at me, boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His mind could not handle the energies that circulate this place,” said Joneleth confidentially. His fingers danced across a dweomer he pulled from his pocket. “I’ll have one sent to calm him. A bad reaction one night unhinged him quite thoroughly. None could’ve foreseen it, but, with study, we will prevent it from happening again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A woman’s shrill shriek burst from further down. It trailed into laughter, then words in a strange tongue. She paused, as though waiting for a reply, but none came. She answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, it is nice when Aphril has a pleasant time,” said Joneleth vacantly. “She sees through every plane in the multiverse, and all the creatures therein. Sometimes, they watch her. Most—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>April shrieked in terror, shrinking against her bed. Her hands clawed at her wild hair. The coordinator pressed another gem on his dweomer with an apologetic look. He cast a spell and a faint white fog filled her room. It sucked away the fear, leaving her calm and peaceful. Moments later, she returned to her conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A weakness on her part,” sniffed Edwin. “A superior mind could handle such a gift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia barked a laugh. “Pity we do not have one here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin flushed. He hung back with Thalia, muttering darkly under his breath. “It is times like this that will eventually cause me to fireball the entire party as they sleep. Yes, yes, indeed, everyone peaceful and quiet and then </span>
  <em>
    <span>FOOM!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No </span>
  <em>
    <span>foom-ing</span>
  </em>
  <span> allowed,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his glare to her, but she frightened as easily as Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They passed other doors. Sometimes several very young residents played together. Older ones talked with each other, but they didn’t seem to carry a single conversation. Other rooms were dark entirely and lumps under beds spoke of sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And everywhere, Cowled Wizards. Helping the residents eat. Talking with them, taking notes or supervising them. Several played games of some sort or seemed to be mid-lesson among small groups of children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each room, as much as Thalia loathed it, filled her with a traitorous hope. Perhaps no one ever left Spellhold — but was it a bad place to be? Truly, most knew the dangers of consumption of the soul or corruption by the Outer Planes. Magic could explode unpredictably. Sometimes practitioners or bystanders lost their wits, or became dangerous. Was it kinder to kill them, rather than let them live with dignity? Not to her. Surely, not to them either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ascended a staircase and, as it wove past floors, Thalia understood how </span>
  <em>
    <span>large</span>
  </em>
  <span> Spellhold was. Hundreds of residents. Likely dozens of Cowled Wizards. There was study, maybe, but not torture. Not experimentation. Thalia even found herself jealous, briefly. When she had been ripped from Irenicus’ dungeon, she had had only Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And lastly,” said Joneleth, opening a honey oak door, “the one you seek. She is quite well, considering. She likes to see the stars, we’ve found.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A library. Thalia relaxed. It gleamed like Candlekeep, humming with polish and tales between leather covers — histories, bard songs, mysteries of magic and kingdoms near and far. Imoen could’ve spent </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span> in such a place, nevermind a few months. And she did love the stars, the cloak of night drawn around her. A single window hung open at the back. Thalia’s boots clinked on the polished wood as she sped up. The library was empty. The reading corners held no one. Not even an apprentice to arrange the shelves. Peaceful. Serene. Full of promise of good times, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stopped Thalia in her step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perfect like any illusion of His.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drapes about the open window spun in a breeze. A chair faced them, high-backed and stiff. From behind, Thalia recognised the hands clasping a closed book in the lap. Sharp little fingers with bitten nails. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marshalling her courage, Thalia spun the chair. It screeched, wood on wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked… shockingly healthy. Clear blue eyes. Freckles. Combed and straight orange hair. It had been cut crooked — hand-cut, by her. Irenicus’ handiwork had drawn a scar down her face, from forehead to chin. But she wasn’t as thin as she had been months ago. The chill wind had bit a rosy colour to her cheeks. She wore fine clothes. Not pink, but well-fitting greys. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen looked straight through her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Im?” asked Thalia. She had no breath to put to her voice and the word died in her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apologies,” said Joneleth. “She has had a run of poor days. Her consciousness comes and goes. It is fortunate you arrived when you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia put a hand to Imoen’s face, but she didn’t respond. The thin hair fell through her fingers. “I’ll be taking her,” said Thalia roughly. “I’m her sister, I’ll take care of her well. And you can’t stop me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’ll find I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia knew. She knew. Her hand shook when it landed on Aurora’s hilt. She turned and the hand slipped off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joneleth’s face changed, much like Dili’s. Bit by bit, then all at once, but not nearly as much as she had expected. Irenicus had the same agelessness, even with veins bulging under His skin like worms. The features were much the same. The hair fell to baldness. The ears scarred over their points.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clicked His fingers and blood erupted from the darkness. The wet explosions turned her stomach. Bones and organs ripped apart with terrible magics, blood spraying. Linvail’s men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust you remember my name now?” asked Irenicus. He smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia nodded dumbly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not a handful of steps away, the others had frozen in mute shock. Even Haer’Dalis, anticipating betrayal, hadn’t expected it so abruptly. There was one missing. Thalia knew she had to keep Him talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to the Cowled Wizards?” she demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, dead or subsumed,” He said airily. “They no longer run the asylum, though I let them do some of their regular tasks when I’ve no need of them. They held me for only a night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I owe you a great debt of pain. And now a lot more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are intent on revenge or justice — or whatever,” said Irenicus coldly. “I care not. You can do nothing. Yoshimo, is everything as we discussed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo had slipped from the group. Thalia had expected him to strike from the shadows, the first strike in the battle. He had only distanced himself to ignore their wrath. Eyes downcast, he lingered in the shadow of a bookcase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The geas,” said Thalia faintly. “Edwin was right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rest assured,” said Edwin, his voice tight, “a Red Wizard lets no debt go unpaid and you, Yoshimo, have just earned more pain than your tiny mind thought possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He submitted to my conditions of his own desire,” said Irenicus. “Now, I expect an answer to the question asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo hesitated, but nodded. Irenicus seemed pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was as though a pit opened up before her and swallowed her soul down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I vouched for you,” she said pleadingly. “When they wanted to cast you out, I defended you. I thought I earned your trust!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You understand,” said Yoshimo in a sharp cold voice, “what the murder of a sister might drive one to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough,” said Irenicus, bored. “I will not have this exposition, not when there is still work to be done. Whatever you think you earned, Thalia, it was mine long before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Candor’s crackling ring started Thalia from her shock. “You’ll be cut down for this, thief,” cursed Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have had every precaution taken,” said Irenicus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, He drew intricate symbols in the air. They began to glow. Thalia’ stomach lurched painfully, as though something inside responded. Linvail and Viconia doubled over, the others looking similarly pained. The knot in her gut twisted to each movement of His spell. She fell to her knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There will be not battle. No heroics. Only sleep.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Home [Part 3: Coal]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>
  <b>Part III <br/></b>
</h1><h2>
  <b>Coal</b>
</h2><p>
  <em>And, what are we?<br/></em>
</p><hr/><h2>
  <b>Chapter Twenty-one: Home</b>
</h2><p>
  <span>The rough metal scraped Thalia’s cheek. Against her will, she began to tremble. She kept her eyes shut tight. The very sensation spoke to a wordless part of memory. She knew what would come next. The pain. The torture. The illusions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she had led them into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had known there was a risk of a trap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen. Haer’Dalis. Edwin. Viconia. Aran Linvail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo had betrayed them. Which one, then, would she be most willing to watch die? One would, she knew. At least. Khalid had been the most disposable to Irenicus. She could watch Linvail kick it. But Irenicus would not find any reprieve from such a casual death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irenicus. The walking nightmare returned to her. Already, she did not know if she woke or still dreamed. His voice came to her, warbling, as though across a great distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through a jar. A glass belljar, large enough to hold a person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He argued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no choice in the matter,” said Irenicus. “It is settled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m beyond needing a soul!” said a woman scathingly. “This petty concern of yours, all these years. The future is open to us, if you only wish it. I came only to convince you to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No elf would take such a desperate choice in life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman laughed, a cold shrillness. “But we are not elves. The curse lifts when our shattered souls vacate. You linger, letting your mind and feeble heart pickle in their obsession. We can return home — right now! If only you would let me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough of this!” shouted Irenicus. The ghost of an emotion entered His voice. “I reserved Imoen’s soul for you. You will accept it. We had a plan! I will not let it be waylaid by your ruthless lack of imagination.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia risked cracking an eye. The woman was Bodhi. She bared her fangs in a leer, sharpened claws curled delicately. Irencius turned from his sister. Yoshimo crossed his arms, looking as though he would love to disappear into the walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you a vindictive coward,” said Bodhi airily. “We are what Ellesime made us, Joneleth. But we’ve no need for divine souls—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you are so content with your backwater thievery—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” she said with a bright smile. “I take joy in my life, in the blood, the thrill. I feel passion and rage and lust. I walk the night superior to mortals in every way. Whilst you, you are still less even than elf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irenicus paused over a table laden with instruments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will join you in your crusade, brother,” she continued, stalking up behind him. “But I do not want to be the only one between us who </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoys</span>
  </em>
  <span> our victory. There is more than one way to plant a tree.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this is the way I have decided.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He broke a glass on the table and an incantation blurred through his lips. Bodhi screamed, a single shrieking note that rattled the glassware. She collapsed, scuttling backwards, a clawed hand at her chest. Yoshimo leapt out of the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you — No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do not fight with gods as a soulless undead husk,” said Irenicus blankly. He glanced past her and Thalia shut her eyes again. “Ah. Speaking of gods, It would seem my visitor has awakened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia would not face Him as such a coward. He was only a man, whatever else He was. She stood and steeled herself. He was so confident in His powers, He hadn’t thought to disarm her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fear I have always had an unfair advantage,” said Irenicus. His blank eyes glossed through her. “I’ve planned this from the start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You freed Imoen, knowing she would free me.” Thalia glanced across the workshop. In a cage, her companions had begun to awaken. Linvail was the first on his feet. “You knew Bodhi offending the Shadow Thieves would mean they would retaliate. You led them to your complex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irenicus nodded and folded His hands. “Clever. Had you only known Yoshimo half as well as you think you know me, things might’ve gone very differently. You had never escaped. You might’ve anticipated him tampering with your meals aboard the ship — a rare spell component, dissolved into broth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo seemed unfazed by Irenicus spelling out his work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He had no choice,” said Thalia generously. “A geas—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which he agreed to readily, for the chance to avenge his sister’s murder.” At her look of confusion, Irenicus swept a hand towards Yoshimo. “You will have your chance, once I am done with her. While not invaluable, your assistance was useful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” said Yoshimo stiffly. He refused to return Thalia’s stare. “I am not an assassin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one has any use for my corpse,” she said, unable to keep her eye from wandering to Edwin. They looked rough, but managed to stand. Edwin touched the bars, face pensive, and withdrew his hand sharpish as if bitten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not make this harder, Thalia,” said Yoshimo. His voice cracked. “These months have not been easy—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia slammed a fist on the green glass of the jar. “These minutes have not been easy on me! Tell me, did Irenicus divine your sister’s murderer? Did he find her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I</span>
  </em>
  <span> did,” snapped Yoshimo. “I found her lover just as Irenicus did, a molted and ash-filled suit of armor in the bowels of Baldur’s Gate, surrounded by blood and the bodies of the dead. I needed to be told nothing. The whole city celebrated your victory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia knew well the scene Yoshimo had walked into. For tendays after, she lived it every night in her dreams. Her hand slipped down the wall of glass as her blood chilled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tamoko,” said Thalia in horror. “Your sister was Tamoko, Sarevok’s lover.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The name twisted Yoshimo’s face. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia pressed her forehead against the glass and spoke clearly. “I did not kill her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confusion flickered in his eyes, but was doused almost at once. Yoshimo spat. “Lies. What is the point? You think I would save you, should you find the right lies? If it was not you, it was one you traveled with. Jaheira, Khalid, Viconia, Edwin, Imoen. I’ve my choice of vengeance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet yourself, Yoshimo,” said Irenicus coldly. “You have surely satisfied yourself. And I am not yet done with her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Imoen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean her no more harm.” He splayed His hands. “She has already suffered what she must. She even survived. This bodes well for you. You are stronger, more focused, fuzed with Bhaal’s taint more thoroughly — as I suspected such freedom would bring you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was a test run,” said Thalia, pained. “An experiment, to see if you could tear it out of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imoen was more than that and has served just as you will.” Irenicus glanced to Bodhi, who sulked in a dark corner. “There are two of us. We require two divine souls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia couldn’t understand what He said. Like Yoshimo, denial rose in her as a defence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it made too much terrible sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gorion had brought not just one Child of Bhaal to Candlekeep, but two. Where else had Imoen come from? And, as they traveled the road and found death, Imoen began to have nightmares. Just as Thalia had. Jaheira defended them both as the natural experience to being ripped from home. Deep in the mines of Nashkel, Imoen had been on the brink of death. Viconia had assumed Thalia had healed her, though she knew she hadn’t. Imoen had healed herself. And these months, dreaming of Imoen — as Thalia had once dreamed of Sarevok. Bhaal’s splintered soul reached out to each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must have suspected,” said Irenicus, inclining his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should’ve,” she breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gorion should’ve told them years ago. Thalia and Imoen hadn’t needed to go through it alone, in fear. Neither had to bare the burden of the nightmares, the powers, the voice of Bhaal without a confidante. Imoen had been horrified when Thalia had told her Edwin’s explanation. Frightened because Imoen feared what it could mean for her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a theory,” said Irenicus, “that the more concentrated and awake Bhaal’s taint is, the more fully it has merged with the mother soul, the easier they both are to extract. Imoen’s proved particularly stubborn. I had to show her some very dark shadows indeed.” He considered. “Unfortunate, but necessary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s hand slid against the glass. It was why Imoen had watched Khalid be murdered and dissected. It was why Irenicus had had Thalia practice with the powers. And, finally, He had freed her in hopes she would harness the taint before finding Him again. And He had been right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes slipped across the room. The dozen other bell jars. They contained men and, as she looked closer, she recognised the Shadow Thieves. The fruits of Bodhi’s guildwar. She had seen this ritual through Imoen’s eyes once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not be afraid, Thalia,” said Irenicus. “I suspect this will be mercifully quick. You shan’t feel a thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced and tried to pull the bird, but the lightning on the jar crackled. It sparked, the power reflecting back at her. It threw her to the ground, shoved into the corner. She would not scream. Not show weakness to Irenicus. Right behind him, stood a friend, shrouded in darkness. The betrayal was too fresh to think of him as anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yoshimo!” she screamed. “Help me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lighting sped faster and, as the men screamed, the world went black.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was home. Candlekeep. As it always would be. The Candlekeep that lived in her memories but not the world. The ivory fortress had never been so crack-free and shimmering. The ivy had always overrun it. It had smelled of cow and hay and worse, but now only of Winthrop’s bread. Caraway and raisin. A clear blue sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It ended, as though a giant with a knife had sliced the worlds and stitched two together. Across the sudden divide, another world waited. One she knew almost as well. Bhaal’s throne room. His castle, his plane, a piece of the Grey Marshes of the Shadows — the gods of the dead. It, too, reflected Bhaal’s memories of perfection. The iron throne lost its rust and tarnish, gleaming like silver. The banners wove whole with the sigil of the smiling skull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Bhaal himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Creases humanized the cruel face. He stood at the very edge, where their worlds met, as though longing to leap forward. He had never looked less like a god.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have very little time,” he said urgently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia met him, but stayed back in case he thought to pull her across. “I can’t do a thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can force the spell to fail,” said Bhaal quietly. “Irenicus wants a divine soul, but he doesn’t know how great it is. Surrender, and you will be as an empty husk—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bodhi was soulless,” said Thalia in a sharp voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vampires are sustained by the memory of what they were, the energy of the Negative Plane filling in what remains.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bhaal glanced up, cowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The skies — a cloudless clear blue and a golden brown streaked with stars — began to dissolve into blackness. Not the black of night, but a colour of the void. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irenicus’ spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bhaal’s fear infected her, but there was no escape. It crawled down the edges, as though the sides of a large bowl. Already, they stood at the center of the dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am your essence,” said Bhaal savagely. “Not your father or your creator, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He will rip us both out. Stop him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The void crept, not nearly as slow as she wanted. The library’s towers vanished into the black. The treetops, the inns and homes at the far end of the monastery. Bhaal’s realm began to blacken much closer. It edged at his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same as you’ve done since you’ve awoken me,” said Bhaal. His eyes shone. “Don’t let me go. We are not two halves. We are one soul. Instinct, power, memory, passion — a </span>
  <em>
    <span>soul.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He shook his head. “Everything Imoen lacks now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that,” she begged. “We can get it back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s dead!” Eyes as black as the void glittered. “And, what are we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew the answer and it stuck in her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Murder,” said Bhaal. He smiled grimly, his skin pulled tight against his skull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grass behind her withered. The spell was only feet away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia embraced Bhaal and held on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was pain. Immense pain. It tore into her very being and left her voiceless to scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, then, it was over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled over in the cramped jar and staggered to her feet. Her hands, slick with sweat, fogged the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You cannot turn me against myself,” she said heavily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a strong one indeed,” said Irenicus, surprised. “You resist beyond all reason. Very well. Yoshimo, bring the girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tried to find Bhaal’s voice inside herself, but she found nothing. Only a silence. She rested her forehead on the glass as Yoshimo brought in Imoen. Imoen walked and cooperated, but didn’t recognise the horror of the room. The lightning sparked and arced to Thalia’s skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And, what are we? Murder… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you kill her,” she said to Irenicus, trembling, “I do not know what I will become, but I will not be able to stop. I will hunt you to the ends of this world. One night, I will find you. And you will fear what you’ve made.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irenicus watched her with flat eyes. “If I had the ability, I might feel fear, but that has passed me many years ago.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He inspected the table of instruments and selected a knife. Yoshimo stepped aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s heart pounded painfully. Tears flooded down her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knife slipped in her neck and blood poured free. Thalia screamed. Imoen retained the blank, unaware look and, after a moment, fell like a doll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up!” begged Thalia. “Please, Im, stand up. Heal yourself. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt the taint, closer than it had been. She wrestled for concentration, but the power only reflected against the glass. She slammed backwards and fell to her knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen’s blood dripped through the grates. Bodhi said something. So did Yoshimo. Someone shouted — a man. Anomen, Haer’Dalis, Edwin, Linvail. She didn’t know. The light began to leave Imoen’s pale blue eyes. Her breathing grew laboured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And her eyes shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen of Candlekeep was dead, her soul ripped to fuel a once-elf and vampire. Her last living year had been excruciating. Murdered because Thalia would not surrender. She waited months for a saviour that would never come. Her sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing remained of her sister. Thalia was no more but a half-forgotten memory. A cautious, shy girl. She had died so long ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All that was left was Murder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain returned, something greater than the gnarls of her heart. The psychic, spiritual damage broke her again and left her voiceless. Tears stopped. Breath stopped. Heart stopped. The jar filled with a sudden bright gold light, before disappearing into the lightning charges. The gold flowed among the purple-white, into a waiting bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally,” said Irenicus, breathless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia fell again and struggled to stand. Her thoughts came sluggish, the last hours a dense web of confusion. It came back with agonizing suddenness. The jar. Imoen. Her friends caged. Imoen. Bhaal, begging to splinter their soul. Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gold light vanished and Irenicus threw his head back. “Ah, finally. Not complete, I see, but complete enough to serve.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you… What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I drained you of the very thing that made you special,” said Irenicus bitterly. “It is the worst of all curses and I should know. Whatever semblance of a soul or sentience you have left, enjoy your half life. I bid you farewell. We shall not meet again.” He turned from her. “Bodhi, take them to your maze if you wish. Yoshimo, the time now is yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi had the jar raised and paralyzed her with the touch of a claw. Predatory, but something more lingered in those eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imoen,” whispered Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi lifted her as though she were a doll. “Don’t think you’ll get any favours from me,” she snarled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia couldn’t raise her head but, as they passed Imoen’s corpse, the sight burned in her eyes. She didn’t need it in her vision to see it. Imoen was dead. Her husk killed only to splinter Thalia’s soul. So practical, cruel, and heartless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Admirable, in a way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo handled the rest of the group, mute and following like drones. He clicked buttons on a small dweomer in hand. They sped up. Down staircases, across hallways. Spellhold was immense, every inch of it tainted by Irenicus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Thalia was certain they were below sea-level, Bodhi tossed her unceremoniously into a heap. The paralyzation wore off slowly, leaving her stiff. The others had fallen similarly. Anomen reached a hand for Thalia, but she threw him aside. Yoshimo stared through them with hate in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” said Bodhi. The word was ice to Yoshimo and stayed his hand. “Red Wizard, you’ve power. I can smell it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin hesitated. “I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi gestured to herself, snarling. “None here — least of all me — wanted this—this </span>
  <em>
    <span>soul</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Rip it out. I had found my own solution to this curse years ago. Undeath suits me.” Her lip curled. “This presence I would be rid of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s… She’s still there,” said Thalia hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not as you mean,” said Bodhi, revolted. “Yet, I do have her memories, her little tastes and fears. The powers of the Lord of Murder, even, are not enough to tempt me. Cast it out. I had a good life. I wish to return to it and Athkatla.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin stood, pallid. “I — Of course, such things are certainly possible. If it can be done, it can be undone, mistress,” he said smoothly. “I have dabbled in magics of souls and the Outer Planes. I am a conjurer, by trade, and can most certainly restore your preferred state. All I require is…” His eyes grew twitchy. “... a laboratory. It is a… delicate task and requires instruments—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irenicus had no need for instruments.” Bodhi prowled around them. “Only lives as spell components.” She gestured. “And, I see you have several.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, pray, hand me over the spells he used,” said Edwin irritably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will let you walk with your life, wizard. If you are incapable or unwilling, speak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin stammered and stumbled backwards as a spell strangled his throat. “I... I won’t,” he spat. He took a deep breath. “Such magic is beyond me, I wouldn’t have faintest idea where to start even if I would do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi’s snarl curled into something more animalistic. “Then, you shall be hunted. Yoshimo, kill who you want. Leave at least the wizard and last Shadow Thief to run the maze.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia struggled to her feet, as Bodhi retreated to a safer distance to watch the show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” demanded Yoshimo. “Why continue to fight? You are dead inside already! Your quest was in vain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen drew Candor again but a spell shield flared as he approached and threw him back. Edwin reached an exploratory hand and retracted it, scowling. Bodhi grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo took a deep breath. “This is for Tamoko.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not kill her,” said Thalia slowly. “I let her live. She knew what was happening to Sarevok, how Bhaal’s heritage had changed him. She walked away from that battle before it even began.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did she go?” asked Yoshimo in spite of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I knew. I would tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, committed. “The geas was worth it, then. You would say anything to save yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said honestly. “I wouldn’t. I won’t die without a fight, but I will admit it might be a relief.” She found a small smile. “I understand, even.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would do the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t betray my allies,” said Anomen, too loudly, too quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia couldn’t contradict him. But Edwin knew, and so did Viconia, and Imoen. She knew Thalia had once turned on their allies to keep Imoen alive. All for naught, it turned out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not worth it,” said Thalia softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words rebounded off Yoshimo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No excuses. No redemptions. No second chances. Let us get this over with.” Yoshimo set his teeth. “I will stride into the hell that Irenicus promised. Illmater take my heart, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> be worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimo drew his own sun blade, Glint. It took the shape of his favourite katana. So full of humour, help, and cheer, he bared his teeth and tensed into a stance Thalia knew. She had watched him fight too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aurora slipped easily into her hand. The sun blades were too dim, their gold light dampened. Thalia knew it wasn’t them, but her. Irenicus had taken the lion’s share of her soul. And the taint. The power was silent, vacant, empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Yoshimo stalked their circle, Thalia followed him. Yoshimo struck first. Like always, he left his right side open. Thalia slid out of the way, but he was there first to block her attack. The sun blades met with a cataclysmic crackle. An energy, neither liquid nor light, shed like sparks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she knew she would kill him. With these blades, strength mattered little. Yoshimo was desperate and emotional, eyes wet with tears. He cursed battlecries in Kara-Turan, his sister’s name most of all. He panted, not with exertion but a drive of pain that left him breathless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia felt tears on her own face, but they were cold and dry and so distant. What would be the point giving into the vulnerability? Things yet had to be done. Grief could wait. Death would wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The battle turned as Yoshimo wore out, his anger falling prey to sadness and stealing his strength. It became simple. Thalia treasured the sharp thrill in her chest as it pierced the emptiness. The steps were reflective, the parries effortless. It brought her no pain. Perhaps it should’ve — but Yoshimo had already betrayed them. It was not Minsc or Dynaheir. It was justice. A just murder.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And, what are we?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia feinted and felt Aurora glide through leather, catching the back of Yoshimo’s leg. The blade bit deep — past armor and flesh. It chipped bone. With a cry, he fell to his knees. She kicked his hand and Glint’s hilt flew behind him. The light went out. In the close corridor, the scent of blood was heavy in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia gave Bodhi a half bow and the vampire clapped politely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel peckish?” asked Thalia daringly. Her fingers dug into Yoshimo’s long hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no.” Bodhi grinned. “You won’t be able to pawn this death off on me, as delicious as he smells. It shall be your hand—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stabbed and, with a perverse feeling that sent a shudder down her spine, Aurora shattered ribs and found purchase in the heart. Yoshimo grunted and cried out. And died.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had put up a good enough fight. Towards the end, he had been rather lacking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia wiped her brow. “Now, what was this about a maze?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi cocked her head but waved. “Yes, yes. Somewhere down those corridors, an exit exists. Find it and keep your lives. A very small chance, but perhaps the hope will drive you on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or I could just kill you.” She indicated Yoshimo’s bloody corpse. “I’ve already provided your night’s entertainment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would kill the last remnant of sweet Imoen on this mortal world?” she asked, scandalized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would free her soul and gladly make you suffer for taking it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scowled and wrenched down the barricade. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I</span>
  </em>
  <span> had nothing to do with this nonsense. Irenicus—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pity Irenicus isn’t here. You’ll serve.” Thalia took a new grip on Aurora. “Counteroffer,” she said calmly. “We run your maze. You stand here and count to one thousand. And then, you run it behind us. If you catch up before we escape, we fight. I win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi looked at her with new eyes, cold and appreciative. “Irenicus has no idea what he’s done to you,” she said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither do I. Would you like to find out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled. “Very well. One thousand. Start running, little Bhaalspawn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last shimmering blue barricade fell. Behind her, Thalia felt the panic in her allies. There was no need. They still had the advantage. The vampire was but one, even if she was a mage and rogue. Magelights burst their unnatural stark white light behind her and they floated, analyzing the paths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the way,” called Thalia, “if you think to abandon us to maze and smartly save your own life, know that the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shadow Thief</span>
  </em>
  <span> as you so rudely called him is Aran Linvail.” She smiled. “Happy hunting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi’s look of shock and Linvail’s horror were faces that Thalia would treasure for the rest of her life. No matter how short that might be.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. The Maze</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The maze was nothing more or less than absolute chaos. The lowest levels of Spellhold, a mix of storage rooms and natural damp tunnels. Doors led to bricked-over walls. Staircases vanishing in the dark ceiling ended suddenly at a three-story drop. Several times, seawater bled up through cracks. Thalia feared her boots might rust if it went too long. Edwin’s magelights flew as white darts, chasing the shadows off and away. No creatures tore down the tunnels. No vampires. No guardians. They seemed to be alone in the maze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In Irenicus’ laboratory, he had kept a series of portals,” said Thalia calmly, breaking the frenzied, frightened silence. “We are likely looking for their same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a deathwish?” spat Linvail. “Or, rather, did you just want to turn this into a suicide mission for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you to come along because I thought you planned to betray us.” Her eyes slid to him. “Had we docked at Spellhold and your smuggler friend summoned vampires, I would’ve blamed you. And sought you out. Consider yourself fortunate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tunnel winded too long, through too many hallways. It was another dead end. Thalia promptly turned back. Viconia cursed in drow and checked the doors they had passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you afraid?” asked Haer’Dalis urgently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia frowned, confused. He certainly sounded afraid. Not of Bodhi on their tail, nor Irenicus, nor death. He had no reason to fear her, though. And, then she understood. He feared </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m not afraid,” she said. The confession did not feel brave, only honest. “I feel… nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye.” He frowned. “That worries me far and above any possible terror you might feel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin brought them to the last main fork in the road. He summoned a fleet of tiny rats and shut his eyes. A raven would’ve made quick work of this. The bird seemed dead, or unresponsive. Pity. He had been so useful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen paced, all but frantic, in the fork. “I, for one, will be gladdened to see that night mistress again. I shall introduce her to the sun I carry—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If she had a lick of sense, she would abandon us and consider it a victory,” scoffed Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t,” said Thalia. She looked to Linvail. “She’s just as obsessive as Irenicus. And we have bait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charming,” said Linvail sarcastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fear not, nightingale. We shall rip you off the hook once it has punctured our choice fang.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tried to </span>
  <em>
    <span>reach</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tug the dagger from Linvail’s belt. It didn’t move. Edwin’s hood. The sack of moldy grain in the storeroom across the hall. Nothing obeyed her. She felt like her arms had just been ripped off. Necrosis evaded her. The bird was dead to her voice. Healing likely as well. All she had left was her strength of arm — not that that was insignificant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My, would the Red Wizards of Thay be disappointed in the splintered Bhaalspawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where next?” asked Anomen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin didn’t respond, not until Anomen grabbed him by the shoulder and shook — when he lurched to his feet and snarled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks to the fiendish rodents, I now have two dozen </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> paths open and available to us — as well as one stopped heart.” He rubbed his chest. “There are vampires afoot. Do not think to stealth upon a powerful wizard, one with a short temper and armies of the Nine Hells at his command.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which way?” asked Thalia, bored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin’s eyes flickered and, despite the determination with which he stalked down the path, she knew it to be picked at random. Bastard. Perhaps the maze was larger than Thalia had first thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Abbil, we are being followed,” said Viconia in her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments later, Thalia heard what Viconia had. The soft slip of shoes on stone, only a turn behind them. A whisper. A sense another living — or </span>
  <em>
    <span>un</span>
  </em>
  <span>living — creature followed and watched them. Bodhi had caught up. But she didn’t pounce. She waited for the opportunity to strike her choice of prey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia threw herself at Linvail, slamming them both to the ground. The barest </span>
  <em>
    <span>whizz</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a magical dart flew above them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, mousey, mousey,” called a sing-song voice from the shadows. “The hunt draws to an end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come and meet your death, then,” shouted Anomen. He rose his shield and took a stance to block the hall. A thin forcefield grew from the shield’s edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia jumped to her feet a moment too late. Bodhi moved faster than a blink. She simply lifted Anomen — heavy chain, plate, and shield — and </span>
  <em>
    <span>threw</span>
  </em>
  <span> him down the hall. He knocked Thalia and Linvail back to the ground. Pain ruptured and her leg gave a crack under her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there were claws. Bodhi zipped right past them. Edwin, Haer’Dalis, and Viconia were defenceless. Edwin’s robes — impervious to wine, dirt, and the snares of twigs — ripped like cloth under the claws of the vampire. Blood dyed them a new shade of red. Bodhi slipped with liquid grace from Haer’Dalis’ reach. Greying, Edwin collapsed. Bodhi reached a hand out, five sharpened nails and too-long fingers wrapping around Viconia’s throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s blood boiled. Her heart raced — faster than it ever had in battle. Faster than any mortal heart should, as if it raced to its final shuddering pitch to give one single beat and then…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen charged down the hall. Bodhi released Viconia to slide under Candor, the sun spear screaming above the undead flesh. Talons dug through steel like it was clay. Only a matter of moments until blood joined it. But Bodhi slipped past Anomen, eager to lay low the Shadowmaster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia pulled herself up. She was hot. Burning. Blood boiled in her veins. Suddenly, the pain in her leg didn’t seem so terrible. She didn’t need Aurora. She would rip Bodhi limb from limb — the vessel of Imoen’s soul. All the torture, the abuse, her death — all for nothing. Ungrateful. Unwanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she didn’t want to spill blood. She wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>taste</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. Salty and vital. Blood and sweat and tears. Fear in her enemies eyes, sweeter than honey. And the blissful silence of death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than her leg cracked. More bones. Every bone. They broke into new shapes, stronger and harder. She saw more. Her vision expanded to encapsulate the world in front and behind her, her reach growing. Long enough to push Linvail out of the way… but that wasn’t her arm. It couldn’t be. Skeletal, yet chitinous, a slick interlocking plate of bone armor. Wreathed in shadow. Fingers twice as long as normal fingers. Tipped in talons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She roared, a shrill echoing sound that seemed to stop time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi halted. She stared, red eyes bulging in horror. “Child of Bhaal, what have you become?” She stumbled over Elvish curses. “Irenicus, what have you done!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vampire’s form collapsed into mist. She swiped claws through it, but couldn’t find purchase. The mist flew at speed as it retreated down the hall. She followed. It was natural, to fall on all fours and give chase. None dare escape death. Not when she had already decided upon it. The darkness was no hindrance to her eyes and she soon left the light behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Protected. Safe. She left her allies behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mist drifted through a crack in the stone. She swiped her claws, but couldn’t widen it. Surely not widen it far enough. Her prey had escaped her. She snarled. Hunger itched in her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia. A name. She knew that name, once. A voice echoed deep in her mind, a screaming horror and faded memory, as though she looked at herself from a great distance. The world grew smaller. The voice grew louder. And friends shouted the name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flickering orb of fire bathed her in its light. Thalia flinched from the sudden brightness. Bones shattered with new bursts of pain. Her mind moved like molasses. Pieces came back. She knew them to be allies, but couldn’t name them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One. She had tackled him. He kept the furthest distance. “Alright?” asked Thalia. Her voice was a rough rasp, as though she had screamed for months. “Sorry about using you as bait but… needed to get her to make… a mistake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared. Just like the other two men stared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that wasn’t right. There were others. A woman. A man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are… the others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viconia is healing Edwin,” said the taller. “The Red Wizard very nearly became a dead wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you done this before, Thalia?” asked the blue-haired one in an intense, pensive voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head and he sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve channeled the power of a dead god and maintained enough will to speak of it. Count your blessings. I know I am counting mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dead god…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And, what are we?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia flexed her fingers. Fingers. Not claws, not talons. Thick in gauntlets and gloves, stubby in their length.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irenicus is still here,” said Thalia. She looked between them. “They won’t expect us to return to Spellhold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia, I fear you may well not keep your mind should you embrace this power,” said the tiefling. Tiefling, that was it. “I suspect none more than I see this… this avatar as something greater than sheer terror, but do not ask me to watch you fade into the mind of a youngling demon.” He smiled. “Tis reminds me most unfondly of my home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not ask me to let Irenicus live,” said Thalia savagely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stepped closer and all three took a hurried step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, let us escape, gather strength, grieve our losses—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t ask me to stop,” she hissed. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> extract my vengeance from Irenicus—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or die trying?” asked Anomen. His look was grim. “We all will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen. Anomen the Hypocrite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>die for you, you know,” he said gently. “And I would here. Don’t make me die like this, dear friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia hesitated. Only a moment, but she did. The words elicited a memory that twisted her heart. A memory of rotten fear. Fear that she had overstepped her mark, that Anomen would fight </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that he would not understand what he had gained in her. That he would not return her loyalty or love, such that warriors shared. She remembered it, but she did not feel it. Her heart thudded, dead in her chest. Anomen’s eyes shone anxiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, remembering was enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, let us find a portal out,” she said flatly. “Go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia felt their watchful eyes every time she turned. Mostly, they didn’t bother trying to conceal it. As minutes turned to hours, they determined the maze empty of any portals. The maze had been a deadend trap by Bodhi. Of course, if Irenicus would use the portals, they would be where they could easily be reached. Upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They retraced their path, finding the route back almost as confusing as finding their way into the maze. Soon, though, it became clear they were no longer the only ones in Spellhold. A fight raged above their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The next shift of Cowled Wizards must’ve found their fellows killed in bed,” said Linvail. He wrinkled his nose. “A fitting distraction. If troublesome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irenicus will kill them all. Again,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t last time,” argued Linvail. “He was overwhelmed and he knows he will be again. Best that can be hoped for is he will escape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And leave us with a platoon of furious Cowls,” said Edwin with disgust. “They’ll swarm the place and drown it in an ocean of ink and paperwork.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave them to me,” said Linvail with a sly smile. “I can buy you time and coordinate with the Cowls. Most ones of sufficiently high rank know me by sight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, if there are none with such friendly dispositions? What if they do not acquiesce to your acting skills, nightingale?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail’s side eye caught Thalia again and she bristled, but his voice was somber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I’ve been given two hours of borrowed life tonight, they belong to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not a thank-you. Not a declaration of life debt. It was a feeble offer to repay her saving his life — after being responsible for putting it in danger. It made no sense to her. She appreciated it all the same, even as he gleefully spun an instantly recognisable hilt in his hand. Platinum, set with a black stone, a dagger blade of pure sunlight. Glint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me, but I took a souvenir,” said Linvail dryly. “If I am to be bait dangled by the avatars of fallen gods, I will be compensated.” He offered the hilt. “Unless you would like a trophy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Glint, for the shine of rich reward justly earned</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amaunator had known Yoshimo wanted to kill his sister’s murderer. And that he wouldn’t. The blade had always been intended for her. The reward was vengeance. Irenicus’ death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It thrummed to her touch, lengthening to another longsword. She stuffed it uncomfortably in her belt. They would need to find a leatherworker again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they returned to the main floors, the battle raged on. Empty suits of armor and planar beasts fought against the Cowled Wizards as they attempted to breech their own fortress. Linvail made himself useful and they vanished into a crystal pure invisibility. Sharper than Shar’s. Even the summoned creatures didn’t take notice. They kept out of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where had Irenicus kept his own quarters? They hunted the workshop and, even as Edwin pocketed every spare notebook they came across, found nothing distinctly portal-like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until they threw open the closets of the workshop of horrors. A brilliant swirling purple, set in a strange steel contraption to hold it open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail broke their invisibility. “Go, I’ll deal with the Cowls. Perhaps we can hold Irenicus,” he said, but he didn’t sound hopeful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See any who know you?” asked Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His answer dropped heavy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with us,” said Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail smirked. “I had quite thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were the one who claimed thieves had no honour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was before I learned how little paladins had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll come up with something. I always have. Your concern is touching, but I suspect we will see each other again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The battle edged closer. Fires burned with terrible acrid smokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go,” snapped Linvail. “I’ll destroy the portal. If the Cowls find you here, you’re worse than dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin, who had been flipping frantically through Irenicus’ notebooks, shut them. “Linvail! We’ve no idea where this portal goes. It might be a decoy, shattering our—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linvail grabbed Thalia hard by the shoulder and shoved her. She stumbled back through and the portal washed over her with ice. She fell into its depths. The swirling purple began to obscure Spellhold and the others’, but she still heard Linvail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oops.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The purple vanished and the ground appeared suddenly, coming up at her. Thalia threw her hands out and caught her fall. The thin air rushed into her lungs, damp and tasting of minerals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, she stood, but found herself enveloped in almost perfect darkness. A cavern? Strange ore deposits wove about the higher rocks, giving off a strange purple glow. The powerful silence was almost tomb-like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One by one, the others followed and landed. Some more elegantly than others. Thalia helped Anomen stand and they smashed the portal. The steel twisted easily. The sun weapons were the only direct source of light for… as far as the eye could see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia took several steps into the darkness, ignoring as Edwin snapped for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am home,” said Viconia mournfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Thalia understood. The portal had taken them to the Underdark.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. The Wilds of the Underdark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The imposing silence settled like a hungry beast. No water dripped from the rocks. Nothing rumbled caverns away. No creatures snuffled amongst the undergrowth. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> no undergrowth. Only stone, a fearsome grey monolith, carved by ancient wild magic into caverns. Their small patch of sunlight was a liability. Viconia’s faerie fire, dim and purple, illuminated no more than five feet in any direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An archmage wouldn’t have set such a portal in the middle of nowhere,” said Edwin. He mended the rips and tears in his robes, but they only ripped again. He scowled. “Allies of his must be nearby. We could lose ourselves in a city.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent, but where?” asked Viconia sharply. She swept towards him, a coiled spring. “The Underdark knows no maps. Tens of miles of emptiness — no food, no water, no life — span between settlements. Once there, we would be enslaved. Illithids. Beholders. Drow. Worse. They expect no mercy and will offer none.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What should be our first goal?” asked Anomen in a steady voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia cursed under her breath. “We choose a direction. And hope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With something quite less than hope in their hearts, they set out. The darkness all but swallowed them. None dared break the silence, especially as Haer’Dalis and Viconia were the only ones to see in the dark. They kept a close eye out for scouts or life, but found none. They were truly alone. Forgotten, in the pits of the earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time ceased to have meaning. It might’ve been hours or days by the time Viconia decided they best rest. They had come to the edge of a lake. The surface was mirror-still and ink black, though Thalia couldn’t say if its contents were water. The hard rock faded into gravel at the edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dead darklake will give us some protection,” said Viconia in a thin voice. “Set your things behind the rocks and sleep. I will keep watch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once settled, Viconia had extinguished their lights fully. The rocks were scarcely large enough to hide them all. Thalia knew she was the last one still awake. Deep breathing and snores surrounded her. Disarmed, they had clustered together like a pile of kittens. At least Haer’Dalis provided a bulwark against the chill. Might’ve been funny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had found the embroidery in her pocket. Half-finished. Her fingers saw the stitches. Boots, a cloak, a wand, windswept hair. With nothing more to do, she thought. She felt. Somehow, it all felt so distant. Finding Imoen dead or leaving Spellhold with nothing but grief had never been an option. Yet it was the only one. Irenicus had pulled the last thread of home and she unraveled. It had caused enough pain to shatter her soul. Such pain it would be the last thing she ever felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia felt none of the all-encompassing guilt and grief that Gorion’s death had elicited in her. It was muted. A blanket thrown over her emotions. The pain hurt less. The sounds came less crisp, the colours duller. The world felt drab and empty and cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What had he done to her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had given her his curse. A broken soul, a faded heart. A half life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In Elvish, as Edwin had said so long ago, Irenicus translated to </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Shattered One</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Thalia knew now why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen had been her sister. Her other and better half, her balance and counterpart. Reckless where she was cautious. Cheerful where she was dour. Impulsive where she was thoughtful. So achingly kind, she had melted Viconia with the sheer force of hugs. Now, death had come for the sweet woman. A cruel death. She would never see her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Thalia could not shed a single tear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sorrow was a hollow and meaningless fact in her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” said Edwin in a voice that made it quite clear he spoke to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia detangled herself from the clump and stuffed away the embroidery. In the sharp darkness, even his dim light in the corner felt like the sun — if a rather pitiful one. He had most of Irenicus’ notebooks open to him, as well as his spellbook. For lack of ink, he scrawled notes in thin air. The letters burned in mirror reflection as she settled opposite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keeping busy?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin spun one of Irenicus’ notes to her without a word. It was a drawing of some creature, perhaps a fiend. Spindly, with a second set of arms and a long neck and high-set eyes. Powerful legs. Spines. A tail. But its arms… all of it, truly, was covered in a scaly black plate. Bone armor. With long curled talons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t get the extra arms,” she said flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nor the tail or but half these spines,” said Edwin in a low voice. “This is Bhaal’s favoured avatar, a form his worshippers knew as the Slayer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A Cyricist warned me before we got up to Spellhold. Under one hundred Bhaalspawn. He made it sound like a turning—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He whom?” he snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t stop to ask for the name of the cryptic and powerful man who appeared and disappeared whilst spouting doom,” said Thalia. She drew up her knee lazily. “Next time, I’ll make a note.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irenicus’ personal journals are a heady read, the work of a senile elf finding his way to four-digit age, full of nonsense.” His eyes darted as he found the passage. “This might be of interest, of a particular curse he and Bodhi laboured under.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pages were full of chillingly precise handwriting. Their content, as Edwin said, was largely nonsense. His finger tracked a line.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emotions come to me only in violent outbursts. Ellesime has taken my ability to truly feel, and I am left with a threadbare heart.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve come to that on my own, thank you,” she said. The name caught her eye. “Ellesime, is that another elf? Have you heard…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she noticed the look in Edwin’s eye. She saw how unsettled he was by her. Imoen’s death had shocked </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He had brought a handful of scrolls for her, intent on teaching her magic where he had pushed her aside before. Thalia hadn’t thought he had traded ten civil words with Imoen before. In the aching deep silence, Thalia could hear Anomen and Haer’Dalis breathing, long and deep, not far away. When neither she nor Edwin spoke, she could hear her own heartbeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Edwin nodded. He coughed and tossed the book aside. “Queen of Suldanessellar, one of the last trueblood elven cities. An ethnostate blocked off from visit by so-called </span>
  <em>
    <span>lesser races,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he said bitterly. “As if elves invented magic and have sole providence upon its mastery. All the lesser races ought return to the kiddy corner and play with our soft blocks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Edwin paused for breath, she heard a curious rumbling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?” she demanded in a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin grimaced but raised a hand. A creature appeared, wrapped around his shoulder like a scarf. A black coat splotched with white neck and paws, Thalia would’ve called it a cat for not the folded wings on its back. The winged cat purred and gave Edwin a particularly aggressive and affectionate head-butt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your familiar,” she said, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A tressym,” he said, tilting his chin away from the beast. He glared at it, but scratched it behind the ears. “A noble creature of cunning and guile. She has proved indispensable many a time and is a more powerful caster than any mortal apprentice — even without opposable thumbs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tressym purred lower. Thalia had spent enough time around barn cats to know how useful they could be, but also knew to read the mood of the creature. It tried, successfully, to calm Edwin down from his vitriol against the elves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s her name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thryza.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that just tressym in Thayvian?” Thalia smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin scowled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never named my familiar either,” she said, matter-of-fact, “but, Imoen did. A little feydragon she called Effie. She managed to summon her in our last days at Baldur’s Gate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin paused and his hand dropped into his lap. Thryza spread her black and white wings, vanishing into the darkness. He stared at Thalia, perplexed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is… an important step in a young mage’s career,” he said evenly. “I am sure, once, you were overjoyed. Do not shed tears or fear — and, if you plan to, schedule such events far from me. Souls are more malleable than stupid monkeyfolk like to think.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “The Red Wizards will be able to craft and restore your soul, piecing together from others. The red armies shall march upon Irenicus and sew it back to whatever vestige you’ve retained.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And… they wouldn’t accept Irenicus as their warlord because they are not confident they could control an archmage?” asked Thalia, surprised at how calm she felt. The conversation typically elicited a confusing hurricane in her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin smiled without humour, his black eyes glittering. “Precisely. There are some who simply cannot be trusted to keep level tempers and serve a hierarchy. All members must be trustworthy, obedient, and know the price to pay for treachery. Thay—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to slobber on about your homeland,” said Thalia, standing. “I’ll come when we find our way to the surface. I’m not stupid enough to try to kill Irenicus alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked, but recovered his composure. “Naturally. Away with you,” he said, tossing a hand to dismiss her before she could leave of her own accord.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shouldn’t have been surprised that hunger and thirst were far more profound feelings than sorrow and fear. Time was impossible to track in the Underdark. It may as well have been their own planet. Population: five. All they knew was when they grew tired, hungry, and thirsty. Food was scarce. They came across another darklake after two cycles, but Viconia forbid them drinking until she tended the water with magic. It took hours of feverish waiting. There was nothing to do but lick cracked lips and stare into the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting on the gravel at lakes’s edge, Thalia felt it like a cold dagger in her chest. Grief. As though her heart had simply been shut off until now. Nothing changed, yet everything did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen was </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had died alone, in fear, in Thalia’s failure to protect her, be there for her when she needed her most. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she had been a Bhaalspawn. A curse, sure, but they wouldn’t have had to fear and weather it alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never again would she see her face. Never would Imoen grow to be the most fearsome pickpocketer of Baldur’s Gate, or learn magic from Edwin. She would never meet Haer’Dalis and pester him for days about Sigil and stories. She would never wear down Edwin the way she had Viconia. She would never gape in awe at Anomen, who still appeared more shining knight than fallen much of the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breath rattled through Thalia’s dry, cracked lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps crunched on the gravel and she flinched as Anomen sat next to her. She scrubbed her face, but was too exhausted to pretend to care. She had sat on the very darkest edge of Viconia’s light; to see her, he had to have been watching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Words will never be enough,” said Anomen, his voice quiet and sincere. “But, I can tell you true, I am sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so…” Thalia shook her head. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausted</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Yoshimo… Linvail… Imoen. I’m so tired of killing friends, and having people die for me, and…” She stared, unable to pick her eyes from the gravel. “Losing people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know this dirge better than I, then,” he said with a grim look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t know about that. Gorion was different than Jaheira, different than… Imoen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet the same,” he said softly. “Somehow, the most terrible fight is ahead and it has no battlefield, no commander, but it does have an enemy. And it cannot be allowed to win. The past is beyond our touch, but not the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sniffed, smiling thinly. Across the shore, Haer’Dalis had settled himself and began to hum as he poured over his swords. A distant haunting tune.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he tells me a thing about Death’s inevitable embrace and not to be feared, I might stab him with his own blade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen smiled. “He’s a different breed. Not human.” He put his arm around her, supporting her as though she were wounded. “Do not let the enemy win. We </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> avenge Imoen. Her death won’t be forgotten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we live long enough to get out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed and considered the grave cavern. “For now, little can be done. Love her. Treasure her memory. And know you will miss her for the rest of your life, but we </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> do right by her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled her closer with the force of his words. She smiled thinly, unable to open her mouth in case she burst into tears. Even as he did, she felt the hungry sorrow in her chest ebb away like the tides. She hesitated, not knowing if she wanted to cling to the wretched feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, it was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia felt all the more empty for having been full, even if for a few minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” she whispered, “those are my words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m not sure about that,” he said lightly. “A very wise and good friend told me that once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saying I’m not wise or good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the dim faerie fire, Anomen stammered and begin to flush. “That wasn’t — I was — Pardon, it was a tease, uncouth and uncalled for during such a time—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My hounds, water is ready!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how they rationed, whatever Viconia had managed to purify with magic was not enough. A carefully measured cup and a half for each, and they they had to refill the canteens again. She wove the spell with a deft hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One hour more,” said Viconia shortly. “I’ll take watch. Drink before and I cannot promise you won’t consume an illithid tadpole.” She gave Edwin a particular glare as she retreated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they stared with thirst at the waiting vessels, the spell drifted across it like a purple mist. Thalia misliked the way her heart pounded. Like an echo in a cavern. The memory of her grief was too close and she couldn’t sit still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling their eyes on her, Thalia followed Viconia to her post. In the privacy of her darkness, Viconia looked more worn and weary than Thalia had ever seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia offered a weak smile, but received nothing in turn. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia gave her an amused look. “You dare let that question come from </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> lips?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia climbed down from her high post and sat, settling against the stone. Her red eyes reflected the faint light like mirrors. “You are stronger than I’ve given you credit for,” she said flatly. “I had assumed that, should we find nothing but a corpse in Spellhold, you would fall apart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Thalia leaned against the rough wall of stone webbed with crystal. “Most of my composure is due to… lacking a soul, rather than any inner strength.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Viconia pondered that and focused on the darkness, crossbow in hand. “None are quite immune to the grisly death of a loyal sibling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced back to their camp. A series of dim magelights and faerie fire orbs lit the way, leaving patches of darkness to the lakeside. Edwin kept himself a distance away, lost in his studies, as Haer’Dalis was in his verse and twinned planar blades. Anomen polished his armor, though it already glowed to a mirror shine. His eyes flickered constantly to Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I seem to have joined a guild. Rather wish I hadn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed,” said Viconia, her voice terse and dense. “I am not used to making promises, let alone breaking them, but I fear I owe you an apology. Ensuring Imoen’s survival was entrusted—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never promised anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had!” she burst. “Not so much with words, but the implicit oath of allies, the promise to escape a dark fate ordained by greater powers. Useless. Futile. The sun struggling as it passes over the horizon. Yet, I did. And he—” She shut her mouth sharply and closed her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Varlas,” said Thalia, understanding. “I imagine this place brings memories of your brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia fell silent. Still, her company was better than the others’ pitying eyes, and Thalia sat on the ground. Viconia’s jaw set tight against further confessions and her eyes flickered over the impenetrable darkness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see how you found the goddess of darkness,” said Thalia dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shar is also the mistress of secrets. Every secret unspoken is hers. Each revealed steals from her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not asking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia took a deep breath. “The Lady of Loss is the only one who knows the true nature of this cruel world. We are born alone. We live alone. In the end, we die alone. And in darkness, always. All else, every alliance and relationship and enemy, is an illusion to conceal that truth. Even this pack you have now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia nodded slowly. There was no lie. All those who raised her, all of Candlekeep, was so far away and gone from her life forevermore. Winthrop. Jessop. Phylia. Hull. Gorion. Imoen. Several were dead. Yoshimo, Khalid, Dynaheir, Minsc. Those she had shared the road with a time, trusted with her life and ultimately died. What had made Edwin the one to survive? As Anomen said, chaos. Happenstance. Luck. Not law, nor order, nor destiny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One day, perhaps very soon, Thalia knew they, too, would leave her. Perhaps by death or force of Bhaal, but they would. It brought her no sorrow, though she knew it would. Soullessness guarded her from the doom-filled thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Varlas was killed, yes,” said Viconia, her words almost a breath. She had lowered the crossbow and rested a hand on a hidden pocket in her armor. “We were ambushed one night and he gave himself so I might escape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” said Thalia and she attempted to inject sincerity into her flat voice. “Gorion died much the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Varlas didn’t die. They returned him to me.” Viconia hesitated. “Have you heard of a drider?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a type of winterwine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia did not smile. “It is a servant of Lolth, the ritual granted by her, and it steals the soul and corrupts the body to that of a spider, as a centaur. Most often, it is used to punish males or faithless.” Her voice thickened. “He hunted me. We fought several times as I escaped, but, eventually, I grew strong enough to kill him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terrible. Unnaturally cruel. Lolth had truly wanted to punish Viconia for her disobedience, and she had succeeded. Years later, the death lingered in her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia didn’t care. She struggled to feel and understand. More than usual. She couldn’t find the words. “That… sounds awful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia didn’t have the fire to glare, even as she tried. “I don’t require your pity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia didn’t get up. She also figured it best she not try anymore words. It was the least she could do, even if Viconia was right — even if Haer’Dalis was right. One day, sooner than any would like, entropy would come for their little group. If it hadn’t already with this death sentence. Until then, Viconia could benefit from their shared silence. And the injury and insult she had dealt Shar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing came at them in the dark and, eventually, Thalia slid further down next to Viconia and shut her eyes. “Wake me if we’re attacked,” she muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia had nothing complimentary to say to that. Also, nothing to say in Common. The faerie fire extinguished and plunged them into absolute blackness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sleep came surprisingly easy. Even against the damp cold stone, they were exhausted enough to pick up a few hours wherever they could. Thalia had no time to fear what dreams may bring. She had begun to figure that, with the taint stolen, she might be blessed with a nightmare-free existence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She should’ve known she would not be so lucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Candlekeep awaited her. A Candlekeep merged part-way with Bhaal’s realm — plagued by withered vines of crawling mint, dead grass, crumbling stone, and a sepia-toned sky of stars. Brimstone and caraway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’ve something to say, Bhaal, do me the respect of choosing a different form,” said Thalia in a hard voice. She stood, but realised the dream was incomplete. Candlekeep was wrong, blank edges filled with a grey fog. Ripped apart. Shattered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen frowned at her, head cocked. Part of her face drifted away in grey smoke, broken and incomplete. She walked, but not any walk Imoen had ever done. It was a poor impression, but it was an impression. Thalia drank it and memorized every line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came too late,” said Imoen with a strange smile. “Didn’t I say you would come to late? You will learn to trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did trust you, Bhaal,” she insisted. “Instead of losing all my soul, I lost only most of it. Very kind. And now I get to watch you to read these wretched scripts—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be afraid,” said Imoen, as though on cue. “You are safe here, if you behave. I will show what fills the void.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had had a number of scripted dreams, each time marking the taint’s growing strength. This one must’ve been scheduled for when the Bhaalspawn count came under one hundred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lurk behind your soul,” said Bhaal’s memory through Imoen’s lips. “I am the only thing left when mind and soul are stripped away. Let yourself become what you are meant to be. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> am what fills the void. I am… you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen’s form twisted and cracked as it stretched. The Slayer, complete with the bits Thalia did not yet have. Summoned from thin air came the rest — Viconia, Edwin, Haer’Dalis, Anomen. They froze, as though statues before the slavering monster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia gave the rest of the party a grim look. “Good luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Imoen-Slayer tore a ragged claw through them each in turn. Armor gave way, steel no more than clay, cloth no more than silk. Bones snapped. Organs burst. Blood poured in overexaggerated rivers, pooling around Thalia’s boots. The corpses fell apart into parts that were nearly indistinguishable as being bodies once. The staring mindless eyes didn’t bother her, couldn’t touch the cold in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are given a gift,” said the Slayer. “A valuable prize. There is great power in the blood. Use it. Use the tools you are given. Surrender to something greater. Each time, move a little closer to the core within. Perhaps you will lose yourself in the end, but you will go to greater reward than you can know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The script paused. Thalia felt she was supposed to argue against it, but she had a hard time justifying her own continued existence. A cursed half-life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Slayer transformed back to an incomplete Imoen, pink and fragile, all sharp edges and sharp grin. “After all, what does an eternity of nothingness matter… when you can destroy all that would oppose you as easy as </span>
  <em>
    <span>one…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia collapsed with a sudden pain. She threw her hands to catch her and sunk into the blood. It was deeper than it first appeared, soaking into her clothes and skin like mud. It wracked her again. In the bones. A once-familiar pain, as when the candle remained just out of reach. She dug her nails into the blood-soaked mud and found them longer. Sharper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia breathed through the pain. When she stood, she was too tall. Too slender. Unarmored, yet protected. Unarmed, yet dangerous. Powerful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarevok appeared before her, a fearsome armored figure. Now that she knew, she recognised the pattern of spikes as mirroring the Slayer. He had died far too long ago to ever reach such a form. She swiped a clawed hand and it ripped through him. Talons found flesh. Ribs splintered like toothpicks.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Two…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> said Imoen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodhi took Sarevok’s place. A perfect statue, grey-white skin, fangs, and a thief’s blacks. Blood stood stark on her skin. She came apart like a ragdoll, undead flesh as cold and solid as a marble statue.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Three…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> said Imoen with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irenicus. Thalia paused, but only briefly. The powerful archmage was nothing, just another fly to swat. An inconvenience. He shredded easily between her claws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imoen opened her arms and waded into the blood. She tilted her chin up to look at Thalia. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Four,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia thrust a hand out. It sunk softly into Imoen’s stomach, knives of fingers slicing as more than blood poured from the grisly wound. Imoen cried out. And collapsed, like the others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blood and dead surrounded her. Only an illusion. Another dream. The scent and silence pressed on Thalia from all sides. It bore no relation to her life or desires, but it spoke to a part of her. Not a taint, but the core. The part of her that was so much older than her twenty-one years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sigil of the smiling skull returned in the sky. Bhaal. Twelve droplets of blood dancing on its edge. It wasn’t done with her yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Five,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> said Bhaal from behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia did not turn as he killed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knives danced in her guts and ripped her limb from limb. There was no relief to the torment, the bone-deep pain. But she did not fight it. She sundered herself to the dream’s plans and weathered it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the perfect darkness returned to her, Thalia knew she had awoken. Yet, there was no sense in it. The pain continued, not only in her bones but her flesh. Shoulder. Gut. The cold slip of a dagger into soft flesh. Something ground against her shoulder bone. An arrow, burning with acid or magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. A crossbow bolt, barbed and poisoned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world returned to her in shades of blue, grey, and red as her vision pierced the darkness. The cavern was vast, honeycombed in its upper reaches. Patches of lichen grew in vibrant hues. Edwin’s little tressym licked at a lichen thoughtfully. Across the darklake where light still glowed at their camp, veins of minerals and gemstones hummed with light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But their camp was far away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Viconia crouched in a low defensive posture. As if in a fight. But Thalia saw nothing to fight. They were alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vi—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word stuck in a mangled throat and Thalia realised what had happened. She had transformed in the night, but kept her mind. At least, she had found it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia braced herself and fell prone, to signal her peace without words. It should be easy. She had used the taint for months, casually — for delicate work, too. Transformation was just a new ability. Something else. A poor substitute for what she had lost, but no different. Hopefully the pain would fade, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia couldn’t hold back her scream of pain. Viconia stumbled in shock, but held her sword at the ready. Her cries attracted the others and the sudden burst of light — magical and sun — blinded her. Her hands curled into fists against the stone, crumbling gravel in her grasp. Bit by bit, she managed to find soft flesh again. Vulnerable. Mortal. Lacking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sat back, panting, and brushed the sharp gravel from her hands. The four of them stared at her blankly. The wound in her gut bled through her shirt, though her clothes were whole. Viconia struggled to sheathe her weapon and settled for dropping it. It clinked, metal on stone, and she wrenched up Thalia’s shirt. The pain was miniscule compared to all else. Viconia stumbled over her healing spell. It first began to work on the poison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen,” said Thalia in a rasp, “could you pull the bolt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen let go of Candor and the light vanished. He dropped to his knees and, with shaking hands, took a grip. “One, two—” He pulled and Thalia didn’t so much as flinch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I… do anything?” she asked quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia shook her head and began to recover. “You transformed in your sleep and… I evaded, but you tried to run off down a tunnel. I had thought the paralyzing bolt would hold you, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But?” she prompted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You turned on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words were simple. Coldly delivered, as though it bored Viconia to speak it. Anomen, as though in comfort, stayed next to her and lay a heavy hand on Thalia’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t happen again,” said Thalia calmly. “I can’t promise sleep, but I can control this form.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you familiar with the phrase </span>
  <em>
    <span>to bottle lightning?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> asked Edwin scathingly. “Common monkeys use the phrase to refer to what is impossible and dangerous. Yet, bottling lightning is an initiation for apprentice wizards everywhere during their studies of the school of invocation. A simple task, with the correct training, talent, and preparation. Attempting to harness the avatar of Bhaal is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> bottling lightning and you would be an idiot to try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irritation pierced her. “Good thing I am an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thalia—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia hissed as Viconia’s spell sealed the wounds in one fell swoop. She held Edwin’s eye. “I will do whatever it takes to tear Irenicus and Bodhi apart,” she said. “I will kill them and make them suffer. If you think to stop me, you don’t know me very well.” She stood and Edwin tensed, readying himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might this sparrow have a word alone?” asked Haer’Dalis softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haer’Dalis,” said Anomen as a quiet warning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised a hand, to ward off Anomen and his concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia blinked. “I’m no threat to any of you! Last time I ignored Bhaal and his powers for long enough, I killed in my dreams. The best thing is to embrace the gift and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sure you know these powers best, my raven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprised at the defence, she took it. Haer’Dalis gave them all a meaningful look and they left them alone in the dark. He picked a sun from his cloak to keep them company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced and turned from his steady, calm look. The rock treated her more kindly. “Never had much of a bedside manner,” she admitted. “Now, I’m not going to pretend I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>stronger</span>
  </em>
  <span> this way, but I need to live with it. And… I might’ve been too harsh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis provided no comfort. It seemed words failed the bard and only the darkness answered her. It was a very mortal failure, one she was willing to embrace wholeheartedly. She took no pride in her rudeness, her awkwardness, in the uncomfortable apologies she had to make after. Yet thousands had the problem. Few had most of her others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve not eaten in seven days,” said Haer’Dalis somberly. “Anomen nearly came to blows with Edwin. Starvation, dehydration, exhaustion, and ambush threaten our tenuous existence. We’ve lost Yoshimo to treachery, your sweet Imoen to murder, and your own soul to a villainous archmage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia turned and could barely stifle a laugh. “Anomen’s right. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> the life of a party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “This sparrow is what he wants to be. As are you. You are right. The former Red Wizard has no power but arrogance to think he could restrain you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, so, you think to do it with pretty words?” she asked sarcastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Haer’Dalis, confused. “No. Despite lingering in what may be your final chapter, you are a wild harbinger of entropy and destruction. It follows you. I would have better chance to convince the rising sun to hide its rays through lively debate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For his drama, Thalia knew he was right. Their situation was dire and, if they didn’t come across food or a settlement soon, they would meet an ugly undramatic end. She nodded as she understood what he was getting at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It should… bring me comfort,” he began slowly, “to know you do not grieve your Imoen. Yet, I fear the origin of this calm. Molesting the past with regret is a practice I thoroughly abhor. Death will come to all. We all will pay decay’s price—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Much as we all are doing now,” said Thalia with a humourless smirk. “Let’s not pretend it wouldn’t be better to return to your blessed Sigil. I would be stunned if Edwin did not still have that planar stone—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” he said with a raised hand. “Let us not compliment the scorpion over the spider for her lovely tail. The Outer Planes are no safer than your Underdark and will offer no sanctuary. The conjurer knows this well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ground her teeth. “I might compliment the scorpion if I were wrapped in webs and she offered escape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woe to you, then, when the scorpion hungers for fresh meat,” he said blithely. “Tis no escape this sparrow seeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia gestured to the darkness pressing around them on all sides. “What is this if not a cage? You — all of you — would be better off away from me, especially if you are too cowardly to help me in </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> time of need after helping you in yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, at last, seemed to crack through Haer’Dalis’ unflappable calm. A small wounded breath passed his lips. “Whatever have I done to earn such a lack of faith?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is not a lack of faith in all of you,” she said, wincing. “For that, I am sorry. That was unearned. You misunderstand me.” Thalia hunted for words, but what words existed to describe a lacking? A vacancy that hadn’t been whole in so long? “Imoen is dead,” she said simply, as though she stated the weather. “I’ve shed no tears. I crave vengeance, yes, but more for the selfish sense of being wronged than avenging my sister. The girl of Candlekeep, the woman who crawled through Amn — they are gone. Most likely, forever. You’re right, to worry about my lacking a soul. I am the husk of a ghost. Less.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis stared, his silver eyes distant and unreadable. “And more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed. “Have you seen anything like the Slayer before? Have you known soulless?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not quite,” he admitted. “Rumours and tall tales, but nothing more. The planes are filled with beasts beyond imagining, though none carry such an aura.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m almost scared to ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “Glossy feathers, burning with the negative of the sun. Hot, furious, and impossible to watch or ignore.” His sigh shuddered. “Tis overwhelming, at times, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I’m a monster,” said Thalia. Even as she said it, she knew what she hoped to hear wouldn’t be his reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tis such a terrible thing, my raven? What </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a monster, after all?” he mused. “A force of rending destruction, a primal embodiment of nature, so often misunderstood. The dark reflection within each mortal soul, yearning to wrench free. Many of the worst monsters appear human and many of the kindest virtues bear horns, tails, and spines.” Fearless, he closed the distance between them. “I am older than you may suspect. I’ve fought in the Blood War of the Nine Hells. I’ve met the Lady of Pain and lived. I’ve traveled across the planes and seen every way life can end — and they are all the same. You do not frighten me. Bhaalspawn. Slayer. Soulless. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrill</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis was close enough to touch, his eyes dark with passion. Had she had her whole soul would she want to touch him? How could she know what she wanted if she could not feel it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You claimed in Spellhold to feel nothing,” he whispered. “Is that still true?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded and wished deeply for her throat to close, for her face to twitch instinctively to a grimace or expression of pain. She could mimic it, buy why bother?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel… cold. I… I want to grieve, give Imoen the pain she is due—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did everything you could, more than any could expect. What more is she due?”  asked Haer’Dalis curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All my love,” said Thalia. She flinched at her stilted calm voice. “All my love, hollow, that has nowhere to go anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no poetry in pain, my dear. Only pain. Do not make a martyr of yourself to attend what you think things </span>
  <em>
    <span>ought be,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he said with distaste. “The present is all there is. Do not let the dead past and imaginary future define you. You are beautiful and terrible, my raven. A herald of destruction on wings swift and sudden. The radiance of a rising sun, that which even you would not be able to convince against shining.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t want to,” said Thalia in a small voice. “I don’t know what I am anymore and, honestly, I’m scared of what’s ahead. I hope I still recognise myself by the time I kill Irenicus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hope,” he said simply. “That you hope at all is a wondrous sign to your sparrow. Without a soul, you might fall to a fate not worth speaking. A fate… of </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> but glossy feathers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted. “Hope? Hope implies a future, Doomguard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hope is a vital mortal emotion. While we mortals are born into this chaotic world falling to destruction, we are not of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis reached for her hand. Their fingers twined gently and Thalia implored her heart to do more than beat. Perhaps, that was all a heart owed her. His skin blossomed with heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll refrain from using the Slayer,” she said flatly. “For now. At least until we understand what I’m risking better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis smiled and led her back to the camp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was about the only thing she did know. Bhaal was right the last time. It was never a taint, but the very core of her soul, that which she had built herself around. The ghost of an assassin — cautious, thoughtful, suspicious, rude, angry, vengeful. They were neither two halves but one soul, now shattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was tired of pretending otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And, what are we? </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. The Colony's Fall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thalia slept undisturbed, catching naps on the odd occasion. Now that she, too, could see through the darkness, she joined the watch rotation with Viconia and Haer’Dalis. The ever-present reminder of her otherness was almost comforting. She had missed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have… I have a strange feeling,” said Viconia as Thalia approached. As an elf, she rarely retired to fall into trance. Haer’Dalis had just turned in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia climbed up to the spot. “What kind of feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, distubed. “As drow, we grow to have natural sense for the rock and the faerzress — the ancient magical energies what created the Underdark — but this is new. Familiar.” Viconia sighed. “I cannot describe it. Faerzress interferes with divining and scouting magics, but I can feel it pass over me, like a shadow walking through my soul. I cannot help but think it searches for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you think that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Familiar,” said Viconia coldly. “Lolth. Her web spins on. I… I know she hunts me. She must’ve waited for me to return to a place she has power. And…” Her breath shook. “There is goes. The feeling ebbs and flows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worst come to it, we’ll protect you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The assurance bounced right off Viconia. She smirked. “Comforting lie. I am sure, somehow, it will take more than stubborn bravery if my fears prove true. A godschild will be nothing before Lolth. The Spider Queen will not slake her hunger without the seasoning of greatest hope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had never heard the hollow certainty in Viconia’s voice before. No matter how she prodded or consoled, Viconia would say nothing more and her feeble attempts at comfort only earned her scorn. The scorn was half-hearted, though, as was the comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia was in a far finer mood by the time they set out again. She even sung under her breath, though she stopped herself. “Haer’Dalis,” she said, “I must blame you for this damnably hummable song playing again in my head — over and over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This shall be the finest compliment this sparrow has heard,” he said humbly. “My audiences are quite lacking of late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really are quite a marvelous tunesmith, not to mention clever mimic and talented actor,” she continued, heedless. “Regale me, bard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked, amused. “Viconia, do you truly think that because you are bewitching in appearance, and have the voice of the most expensive courtesan in King Wingding’s House of Earthly Delights, and a body built for untold pleasures that I would hastily obey your commandment?” Even as he finished, his eyes clung to her as they walked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia scowled. “Men better than you have walked across lava to kiss a dog who’s licked my hand. Dream on, bard. Your imagination may be vivid, but I assure you what it dreams pales to the truth of my companionship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis let his eyes wander but returned, unsettled, to their stiflingly quiet walk. Beside Thalia, Edwin fumed — and not so silently. His invisible tressym got an earful of Thayvian complaints that only grew more heated when Viconia turned a smug, half-lidded gaze to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia snorted, which only earned her a sharp smack on the back of the head from the offended wizard. Was only a matter of time, she figured. They were all hungry, thirsty, and in rotten moods because of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t know you could get jealous or—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet,” said Viconia sharply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had entered a new tunnel and her fingers lingered over a series of strange markings on the ground. Not quite language, at least not one Thalia was familiar with. Haer’Dalis neither, it seemed. As Thalia knelt down, Aurora in her hand illuminated the carving fully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wards,” said Edwin, fearful. “Alert—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A powerful chittering noise came from further down the tunnel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia whispered a word in drow that needed no translation. She swallowed. “Run.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen held Candor aloft, though it didn’t illuminate much further. “What sort of—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Run, abbil!” She grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled. “Afore the mindflayers take what little is left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A magic crackled like lightning, but gave no warning. The bolt was nothing more than the warble of heat over a fire, a faint disturbance in the world. Anomen collapsed and Candor went out. Thalia drew her blades, but the air fluttered before and struck her. The sharp pain penetrated her mind, assaulting her as it connected to another. A strange world, a home filled with tentacles and the ever-presence of friends, of entertainment, slaves, and dominion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercy found her and she lost consciousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia awoke on a hard stone floor. Dark, though not as pitch as the wilds of the Underdark. Head ringing a chorus of bells, she moaned softly and shut her eyes. It was a new sort of pain, deep in her mind, and kept her prisoner on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prisoner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She summoned the strength to open her eyes again. She was the last to awaken. The others talked in low voices, a huddle in the corner. Thalia knew little of mindflayers, but she could recognise a prison. A cramped barren stone room with one door, no handle on the inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You survived,” breathed Viconia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia said her maxim in drow, “My… weapon is ever-sharp, my poison is strong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia repeated it, but even that exertion made Thalia’s mind spin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illithids are unrivaled psychics,” said Edwin, dragging Viconia’s attention back. “There is no reason to ensure we all live without a use for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know mindflayers </span>
  <em>
    <span>breed?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she demanded in a hiss. “Not eggs, not live birth, but tadpoles. An implantation in the eye, for a—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am familiar with ceremorphosis,” he snapped. “Familiar enough to know illithid colonies send regular raiding parties to retrieve standard breeding stock. Trespassers are—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enslaved,” said Haer’Dalis distantly. He leaned against the wall. “Tis not the nature of mindflayers to be reckless. Leaving us our weapons was deliberate and escape will merely be the preferred choice of death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Find a more positive tune to sing, bard.” Edwin burst to his feet. “I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be dying in this hovel, nor having my brains sucked out to serve as a twelve course meal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That may not be in our power to choose,” said Anomen darkly. “I won’t spend the rest of my days sold as a slave in the Underdark. We might need to take our chance to go down fighting, while we still have the choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin ground his teeth and gestured. “See, bard, look what’ve you’ve done! This was a perfectly obedient and </span>
  <em>
    <span>righteous</span>
  </em>
  <span> monkey before you involved yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia winced and pulled herself to a sitting position. “Is this how it’s been?” she asked Viconia, as she distanced herself from the men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These last… six, seven hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad I was unconscious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you feel as though you have all your faculties?” asked Viconia bluntly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emotional? No. Mental?” She reconsidered and ground the ringing out of her eyes. “Also, no. But I don’t think that is mindflayers’ doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A key turned in the lock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia dragged Thalia back into the corner. Steel rung on sheathes. Thalia struggled to keep Aurora and Glint in hand, but she knew she agreed with Haer’Dalis and Anomen. Life as an Underdark slave would not be her end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swung open and revealed a smiling ogre. “Ahh, you all wakey,” he grunted. “Goods! Now, it is time to fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His form blocked the entire door, revealing nothing of what awaited outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, I’ll have your head,” shouted Anomen. Edwin restrained him before he threw Candor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ogre howled a laugh. “No, silly little one, you don’t fight </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I earn right to not fight. No, you fight in the arena. Trespass on flayer-home, you pay for your stay. Fight well in the area and might live long enough to get servant position. Much better than fighting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pit fighting slaves,” said Edwin with a wrinkle of his nose. “Our opponents won’t stand a chance. The illusion of subservience could buy us a better opportunity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well,” said Anomen. He glowered. “But you best put those brains of yours to use. If I end up as a pit fighter for mindflayers, I’ll knock your grey matter out long before any get a chance to eat them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noted,” said Edwin dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they moved forward, the ogre put out a massive grey-green hand. “Not so many. Team of three.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hesitated, exchanging uneven looks as they attempted to divine a count without words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you waiting for?” snapped Edwin. “Go, warriors. Shoo! Only a true fool would not let me plot our escape or risk my life in the arena — and the Bhaalspawn can barely see straight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” asked Thalia. “No—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay your bloodlust,” he said, eyes flashing. “There will be plenty of time to kill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Haer’Dalis, Anomen, and Viconia left the cell to fight in the arena. Thalia found herself asking questions, but there was not the gut-wrenching feel of worry. Only practical. What enemies would they fight? Wild monsters or other matched teams? What lay between this cell and the outside wilds?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin paced, head down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What of your tattoos?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like this you,” he said, smirking as he passed. “Not preoccupied with lesser concerns. I am cataloguing them, though most of their abilities I can cast through spells, as well. And, as I have been left my book, my armaments are vast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She approached the door. Its hatch was barred, but the room outside appeared ordinary… mostly. Strange pipes burst from the walls, a shining purple metal, almost tentacle-like. Gears spun on machines seemingly without purpose. A handful other doors filled the hall. More prisoners for the arena. No ogre, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tapped the bars, but found no magic. Strong, but brittle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slayer could tear through,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin dragged himself from his thoughts. “If it is the difference between an unsuccessful escape attempt and a successful, you can transform into a cockatoo if you wish,” he drawled. “I suspect illithids may have a hard time with divine flesh. Now, silence. I’m thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia strained her ears and could hear a distant commotion. The arena above. Steel on steel. Whoever they fought, they had weapons. Other slaves. She should’ve given Haer’Dalis her sun blades. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can Thryza scout ahead?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin’s eye twitched as she interrupted him again. “What do you think we did while you slept? The door at the top of the stair contains a mundane lock. Thryza does not let a lack of opposable thumbs stop her in her quest for power, yet familiars have their limits. Silence, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shook the bars. She just wanted to be useful. How did they stand it, at the whims of a mystery master, locked with each other for six hours? Miracle they hadn’t slain each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would the mindflayers have a way to the surface?” she asked. “Escaping to the wilds—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silence, you fool,” he shouted. “If you had let me think, I would’ve already formulated a cunning ruse and escape—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is the worst of fates, entrapped by ghaik, hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin snarled at the new voice that interrupted him. He shoved Thalia out of the way, cramming his face against the bars until he spotted it. “Run afoul of a nightsea bed, gith? I expect nothing less—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t antagonize the green elves,” muttered Thalia. She pushed her way next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Elves</span>
  </em>
  <span> might’ve been a touch generous. The cell across the hall had a new face in it, full of guile and sharp lines with pointed ears, but speckled with black splotches like the coat of a feline and a pinched upturned nose reminiscent of a bat. Though, she supposed, there had to be ugly elves somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No offence taken and I’m sure none meant,” he said, speaking with a chittering accent. “This name is Simyaz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Edwin, Thalia,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin stared at her like she had grown a new set of arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pleasure,” said Simyaz. He inclined his head. “Your friend is right. Our spelljammer ship was capsized, ourselves — crew and captain — stolen. What of you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moment,” snarled Edwin. He gripped her arm and dragged them back into the far corner. “Have you learned nothing?” he demanded. “Do you prance through life as oblivious and stupid as you look? Learn from Yoshimo, from the Rashemi, from that druid, and Linvail’s smuggling man. The most comfortable place for a dagger is your back. Do not present it so eagerly to strangers. And, far more importantly, do not present </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Point taken.” She pointed a finger. “You sound like Viconia, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bristled. “Do not compare me to such—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, spare me your complaining.” Thalia glanced back to the door and Simyaz outside. She sighed. “What’s a spelljammer? If we stole one, could you… captain it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth twitched in a number of shapes before he settled on, “The tiefling might. Spelljammers are rare ships of the Astral Plane.” A different look came into his eye. “You might need to kill them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s first instinct, the shrug halfway completed, gave her pause. It should’ve bothered her, to kill total strangers. Prisoners. Rob the would-be slaves rather than work together and escape. Once, she had argued to Anomen that the manner goals were accomplished were just as important as accomplishing them. She was wrong. Imoen might still have lived. Thalia might’ve had her whole soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These elves mean nothing to me,” she said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not elves,” said Edwin out of the corner of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simyaz smiled pleasantly as they returned to the door. “How did you come to find this home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fell through a portal and have been wandering the wilds since,” she said. “So, you have a ship? A way out, if we could free you? Our freedoms might have to be paid with blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, thin lips stretching a toad-like mouth. “Oh, yes. We harbour a savoury hatred of the illithids. We will see them dead before we are done — or ourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheerful bunch,” muttered Edwin. He turned from the hatch and dissolved into mutterings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced towards the hall and stairs, but the battle continued in the arena above. “Have you a plan?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A slim opportunity may await,” said Simyaz. He gripped the bars with too-long fingers tipped with black nails. “Ghaik are strong here, so long as they remain in proximity to their Elder Brain. But githyanki have power of our own.” He turned behind him and words in a strange language passed. “My crew meditate for the coming battle. Next one, is to be us facing each other. We may yet be able to disrupt the ghaik and make an escape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Psionics,” said Edwin, considering. He stroked his chin. “Yes, yes, perhaps. The Invisible Art. Githyanki developed their psionics over centuries to combat illithids’ own.” He nodded. “Very well. Just so long as we are not targets while… you… while…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simyaz smiled pleasantly again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re targets?” he cried. “That’s what this is about, toad! We fight while you sit there, going </span>
  <em>
    <span>OHM</span>
  </em>
  <span> or some such?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will turn from the battle and instead focus our powers on the ghaik audience,” said Simyaz solemnly. “Through meditation, our minds will battle theirs and win. Open the arena doors and we shall all escape.” His smile turned mocking. “Unless, you think to remain here, Edwin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The use of his name made him bare his teeth. “What do you think, that I’m taking up residence? Oh, yes, a lovely bedroom with spacious views of damp and ill-mined stone bricks and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave it,” said Thalia, already bored. “We’ll do it, Simyaz. If we’re to distract, where would the ship be? Where are we escaping to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Salvaged by the drow city to the south, Ust Natha, not far off,” he said breezily. “The drow won’t be able to pilot it. Now — Oh, no, quiet!” he hissed as keys jangled outside the door at the top of the step. His face vanished from the hatch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door clanged open. Before Thalia could get a glimpse of the others, Edwin dragged her back from the door. The ogre sounded cheerful, at least. She didn’t want to think what might’ve made the gaolor so chipper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ogre threw the three of them back in and shut and locked the door. They stumbled in, bloody and bruised. Anomen limped to the far wall to support himself. Scolding, Viconia coaxed him to the ground and went to work on his twisted knee. Edwin swooped over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What manner of foes had they set you on?” he asked. “What was the layout of the complex? How many illithid watched your combat display? Did you spy additional passageways or—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stitch your mouth shut before I do it for you, jaluk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia guided Haer’Dalis into the far corner and lowered her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We met—” She grimaced and reconsidered her first words. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whole, my raven,” he said, amused. “Twas not the first time this sparrow saw a tentacle-face, though our hound was distracted a moment. The curious grey dwarves took their chance. Who did you meet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our neighbours.” She rose an eyebrow. “Gith...something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Githyanki,” snapped Edwin impatiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis rose an eyebrow. “Curiouser and curiouser. Githyanki leave not their home planes, lest to do battle against their sacred and ancient enemy — mindflayers.” A smile twisted him. “What fine irony fate has for us all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They have a ship, salvaged by drow to the south.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Hmm. A spelljammer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia checked the door’s hatch, but Simyaz was nowhere to be seen. “Could you pilot it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This sparrow has been behind the wheel of a few fabled vehicles in his time.” Haer’Dalis hesitated, readjusting the fall of his sword belt. “A spelljammer of the gith,” he mused. “Most likely. Common realmspace ships require a powerful mage, though githyanki have little magic talent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, thinking. “It could be powered by… psionics?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps, unlikely.” He smiled privately and inched closer. “What devious plans turn behind those misty grey eyes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing specific. And they aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>misty.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sat them all down and explained Simyaz’s plans to escape, for the githyanki to use their psionic abilities to counter the mindflayers’ as they fought to clear the way. Viconia and Anomen had the same suspicions about being used as bait. Even Haer’Dalis, though, had to admit it was a better option than pit-fighting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, so, they waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen and Edwin caught an hour or two of sleep, before the ogre brought them a particularly nasty gruel. Pasty and lumpy, with the consistency of stirred brain. Thalia barely voiced the comment before Viconia pointed out the illithid diet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tentacles rip the brain from eyes, nose, and ears,” she said calmly, “though others may simply use the powerful jaws to swallow the head whole and excrete the bones and non-brain flesh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia set the gruel aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ogre came for new fighters again, but a different cage. She pulled herself up to see and spotted Simyaz and his crew behind led. Five in total, not three. He made a curious symbol in the air — a greeting? It earned him a sharp smack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thick green finger prodded through the bars, almost taking out Thalia’s eye. “Back aways,” grunted another ogre.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, they, too, were led from their cell to the arena above. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s eyes eagerly drank in the alien world. Mindflayers built walls, doors, and ceilings, but not with any material she knew. Metal, sometimes, but the dingy rough metal couldn’t have been iron. It rusted a deep purple. Copper tubes wove throughout, pathing between glowing crystals and raised buttons. Glass tubes held a silvery light and, as they passed, Thalia thought she saw a small creature swimming in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ogre ahead unlocked the door at the top of the stairs and pushed the githyanki — and then Thalia and the others — forward. Thalia stumbled in surprise at the springy white sand. Then, she realised it was splattered with blood. Some red, some black, some green. The familiar scent was the same. Heady and metallic. Lustful, in its ways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the arena. Rows of seats circled around them. Many empty, but many others full. Illithids. Sweepingly tall and humanoid at first glance, but skin the same purple as the metal. And tentacles poured from the flat where a nose would be. A lively and eerily silent cheer came over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tensing, Thalia moved to put herself between the githyanki and the others. The psychic press of many eager minds filled her with a voyeuristic bloodlust. Simyaz and his crew did not draw weapons. As Edwin suspected, they clasped their hands, bowed their heads, and chanted a droning syllable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing seemed to happen, for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mindflayers grew excited. Those nearest shied away as the sun blades lengthened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keeping her eye on Simyaz, Thalia extinguished Glint and passed it back to Haer’Dalis. “The beasts don’t like light.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t feel him take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A man is most fond always of his own sword—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be clever, just use it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tis this sparrow’s nature—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is neither the place nor time for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Haer’Dalis took it. Thalia doubted Viconia could use the sun blade without shirking herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The githyankis’ psionic meditation reached its invisible crescendo. The pressure of the mindflayers’ lifted with a silent shriek. Many collapsed in the stands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go!” shouted Simyaz. “Find an exit. Fight through. We will follow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unaffected, the ogres burst through the doors and roared threats in a heavy language. Before any could lift a weapon, a pair of </span>
  <em>
    <span>fire arrows </span>
  </em>
  <span>struck the ogres dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard the space-toads,” snapped Edwin. “Get!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin was considerable enough to send forth a pair of elementals — air and fire. Thalia had seen air elementals stoke a forest fire into considerable rage. She kept her distance as she followed. The complex bloomed in front of them, as maze-like as Bodhi’s own. Doors and laboratories and slave prisons. A few frenzied slaves stood in their way, but the fire elemental swatted them into screaming ash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There seemed to be no end to it, even as the slave prisons gave way to wider tunnels. The colony was carved out of the rock; smooth stone fortified with metal and glass, tunnels servicing as streets between districts. Though filled with symbols and tentacle motifs, the walls had no directions she could interpret. They ran blind. The elementals spearheaded their escape, but with as many backturns and retreats, they were at the front too often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silent alarm had been sent off. Thalia cringed at the weight in her mind, an urging to lie down, a shame of disobedience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simyaz and his crew kept close behind but slow, distracted by their meditations. As mindflayers began to leave the tunnels and rooms nearest, many broke down at the assault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elementals performed admirably, but not perfectly. Tentacles lashed out and were singed, but their psionics still wounded them. Thalia joined the battle, as tight as it became in the narrow halls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up close, the creatures were revolting. A viscous slime covered the writhing tentacles and their lengthy fingers, which moved almost the same. Bald and sexless, stiff black robes cut them a too-narrow silhouette that bent like a willow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They screamed in her mind as Aurora brightened to a dire light. Quick death followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illithids are not individuals, but a swarm under an Elder Brain,” warned Viconia. “Should one see, all do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nowhere to hide in this hellhole,” said Anomen, panting. “Even invisible, they will just run into us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will be overrun if we find no exit into the wilds,” she said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thousands</span>
  </em>
  <span> of slaves with hurl their lives at our feet, thousands more—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silence, then,” said Edwin coarsely. He flipped through his spellbook. A fleet of bats appeared and took off in a number of directions. His eyes grew listless as he tracked their journeys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia looked to Anomen and groaned. They planted themselves among Simyaz and his crew, waiting for the inevitable onslaught. Viconia stepped amongst them and muttered a prayer. Shar’s power fortified them, the cold darkness creeping through Thalia’s muscles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps thundered across nearby tunnels. Ogres. One turned the corner and threw back words in Undercommon. A wave followed. Dwarves. Gnomes. Drow. In rags, bearing clubs or hatchets or bows. Snarling, cursing, screaming, faces gnarled in biting hate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An arrow zipped through the air. Haer’Dalis rose a sword and stepped back in a smooth motion. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>clanged</span>
  </em>
  <span> off his blade, harmless. He barked a laugh. “This sparrow always wanted to try that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The githyanki spent all their energy repelling the few mindflayers that followed the wave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had never been so calm before a battle. It wasn’t an entirely unwelcome sensation. Even as it distanced her, it simultaneously grounded her in the actions. The lackadaisical parries, her enemies’ sloppy thrusts, the quarter-second warning of an arrow or psionic blast and reaction to dodge. Her heart thudded, strong and steady. She did not fear or hate. The battle didn’t brew with lust. She moved as if in a dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Underdark creatures hissed at the sunlight, but fought fanatically against it. Mostly unarmored, they bled the same as any other. Red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stubborn mindflayer managed to stand against the force of the githyanki. It locked curious eyes with Thalia. She found herself pause. To fight, yes, it was all she was good for, but why escape? Why accept allies at all, when she could have new targets?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head turned and she saw Anomen cut down two drow, their weapons melting into the light. He would be a good contender. A wonderful fight. Skilled and trained and vicious. A test for her skills.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Thalia turned back, the mindflayer floated inches over the carpet of corpses, tentacles outstretched. She tried to raise her sword against it. But how dare she? Her master — a good master, merciful to let her still serve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia wrenched herself from the mindflayer and slipped her skin. The mindflayer recoiled. It hadn’t expected that. Its horror rebounded against the walls of her own brain as Thalia embraced the scattered mind of the Slayer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mindflayer bled, too. Silvery white, a putrid slime like what on its tentacles. It wanted brains? She would eat its. The blood touched her lips and she gained a feverish blurr of its life. The colony. A city with a name not of word but thought — the calm supremacy of meeting an inferior, the serene water drip of a grotto. And a map.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep in the memory was a longing, a feverish want and need and fear. To return to the Elder Brain and live forever in its embrace. The sum of the peoples’ history, lord ruler of the colony, the promise of its future.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the Slayer knew where it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stomped on the head, crushing bone into brain and extinguishing any chance of the mindflayer gaining immortality. Though she couldn’t speak, she growled low at the elementals and they followed her lead. Only they were fast enough to follow. And the red one — he would know, too. She had a plot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Slayer retraced the mindflayer’s steps — a reverse hunt. That amused her. Her quarry had already been killed, and now she tracked him. How novel. Down the hall, the low staircase tunnel, and across the plaza. Mindflayers filled the air and psychic realm with their fear and loathing and anger. Such vibrant emotions. The tentacles, though strong, smacked and found no purchase along the scaled bone armor. She carefully sampled no more brains as she made her way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the brain room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A room… for the brain. The brain that was more a king.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It looked little like a throne room, but the respect and power thundered the same. A glass tank filled the room, the brine a cloudy swirling mess. In its depths, fat tentacles floated and a brain commanded all. The squishy grey-pink mass warbled with dense wrinkles. Though it had no eyes or voice, she could feel its insolent, hateful stare. Words struggled to come through the psychic link. The Slayer didn’t care any.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her prize was the kill, to destroy the very heart of the mindflayer city that had dared imprison her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But how?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stuck a clawed hand in the brine, but the acid burned. A tentacle lashed out, missing her by moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grunted at the elementals and fell back. The air elemental, a whirling tornado of a ghost, concentrated and swept his arms. The brine sloshed like the tides. Plenty of it slopped right out. The Slayer growled and hopped on a chair as the acid slicked the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Elder Brain poked above the level of brine — and the fire elemental struck. A formless mass of fire and whips, it dug into the wet grey matter and ripped out shards of smoking burned flesh. Chunks flew across the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Slayer shrieked in agony at the psychic backlash as the Elder Brain died. The pain was a cold knife in her head. Her vision faded to white and she clung desperately to the chair. Blinking, her heartrate returned slowly to normal. And, then, her vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Elder Brain was dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t her kill after all. Disappointing. He had to take it for himself, of course. That was just like him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Edwin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The name came to her with a sudden jolt. The Slayer wasn’t pleased she remembered, but she felt the pleasure from another mind — distant and half-forgotten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elementals had vanished, too, but in their place was an odd animal. A small furry thing. Black and white, on four dainty legs. It was a common animal, used by farmers or left abandoned to roam streets in cities. The Slayer couldn’t think why it would be in the Underdark. And then it opened wings. Like an arrow, it flew straight out the door and back into the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curious, she followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the plaza, mindflayers mumbled in psychic distress. Pain. Insanity. In any case, they were mostly out of the picture. With every step, the Slayer understood more. She was even proud of her lengthy memory. It was a gift to access them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The animal she had thought of was a cat. Winged cats were magical beasts — tressym. Lived in mountains, sometimes elvish woods. Sometimes used as familiars by arcanists. This one was. It was simply called </span>
  <em>
    <span>tressym</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Thryza in Thayvian. It belonged to Edwin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every piece of memory left the Slayer more powerless than the last. For several steps, as they staggered through the halls after the tressym, she didn’t know who she was. There was no war for control. A strange peace, but peace. One soul, one consciousness — as mangled as it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the taste of illithid brain on her tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Thalia who found the others. At a look from Edwin, his familiar vanished. The battle found an end — though rather more corpses joined the carpet. Relief greeted her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simyaz did not regard her with fear but interest. His crew continued their meditations. “What manner of shapeshifter are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you come up with a name, let me know,” said Thalia shortly. She brushed past him. “The Elder Brain is dead. The way should be clear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easier, certainly,” said Viconia with a tight look. “But the illithid might be unhinged, more than incapicitated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can hold them at bay until you strike,” said Simyaz solemnly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, we kill them easier,” said Anomen. He nodded with recognition to Thalia and tapped Candor on the ground. Bright gold sparks shot out. “Find an exit, Edwin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps haunted the nearby tunnels. Without the Elder Brain, the slaves and their masters would be less coordinated. Perhaps not less dangerous, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin declared a direction and new elementals forged the way forward — fire and earth. As they pushed ahead, combat rang out. They stepped over new bodies in their haste. The tunnels broadened. Thalia scoured the fragmented memories of the mindflayer, but couldn’t have said if they went the right way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chaos racked the tunnels behind them. Slaves turning on their masters? Fractured mindflayers chasing them? A common army, organized by monsters of the Underdark without need of a psychic leash? Closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The earth elemental barged through the next door —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there was no more colony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pitch blackness of the wilds. Eyes adjusting, Thalia picked out the fungi and uneven terrain. Freedom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elemental strained to hold the door open for them as they stumbled through. A dozen harried magelights threw the cavern into blinding relief. Thalia was behind, counting each as they crossed the threshold. Edwin. Anomen. Haer’Dalis. Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silent battle raged behind, the mindflayers’ psychic battlecries anything but silent. Thalia didn’t dare glance behind, but she heard at least two of Simyaz’s crew stop chanting and forced to the fight. Arrows flew over her shoulder. Others clanged on shields. Forced the githyanki to stop. The fire elemental waited at the door, meeting the arrow with burning flares sent in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia made it through the door. Her boots stopped their clang on metal and crunched over gravel. She doubled over, hands on knees, and struggled for breath. She spared a glance back. Simyaz and his crew had fallen far behind. None chanted their psionics. All had been forced to battle in melee. While skilled, they would be fast overwhelmed. Behind their slaves, mindflayers waited to feast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The earth elemental grunted and staggered. Arrows stuck out from every crevice in its rock-like body. It lost its grip on the door, which shut with an ominous clang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, and here come the change in plans, am I right?” asked Haer’Dalis. He spoke without judgement, only a mild interest. “Wondrously chaotic plan, if it is. I expected no less.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen glared at him as he passed. “Golem, open the door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re mad,” yelped Edwin as the elemental hasted to obey Anomen. “Hold!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elemental grunted something that might’ve been a shrug and barricaded the door shut with its body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re dead,” called Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen turned his look on her. “I am not turning my back on warriors that I fought alongside! None of us would’ve escaped were not for them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, how paladin-like,” drawled Viconia with a smirk. “Self-sacrificing, courageous, and utterly lacking in common sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen flushed a blotchy red, but ignored her insult.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within the colony, swords clashed nearer. Had Thalia less common sense, she might’ve thought the githyanki were making their escape. Rather, she figured they had been backed into the corner. Cries and muffled screams joined the swords.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re dead,” said Thalia again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the perfect silence of the wilds, only their cries could be heard alongside their own breathing. Simyaz screamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that sound dead to you?” demanded Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced to the others, calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naught but the wind,” said Edwin. “I’ve left them a lesser fire elemental. It is more than those mumbling green elves deserved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen turned, hopeless, as he clung to the figment of his ideal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis gave a grim bow. “This sparrow is not in the habit of dicing his life on strangers’ behalves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia actually burst into laughter when Anomen turned to her. “You must be—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you rather have had no one there when it came time to save you?” he asked quietly. “Would you have had I step aside when that spider made for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia matched his flush, a darker grey on her skin. She snarled. “Do not presume to think what I need. That was your decision. None other. Go on and throw your life away, but do not expect us to follow into ignoble suicide.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will not go back in there,” said Thalia, unrelenting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The strength left Anomen’s shoulders. Thalia should’ve expected he would turn to her again for guidance, but she didn’t. The intensity in his lost eyes struck her. Even if she had a soul, she wouldn’t know the first thing to do with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The world is cruel,” she said coldly. “Unpredictable. And it is the only world left to us. Our constant companion — by destiny and choice and self — is death. I will not see another I love taken by it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen started, more confused than before. “You… love me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reconsidered the strange void of her heart, the lack of grief. Even if muted, she knew what belonged there. “I suspect I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From within the broken mindflayer colony, Simyaz and his crew screamed as they died. Silence found them again. The moment for heroics had passed. Anomen could console himself that, while he wanted to, he had been stopped. Thalia had no such delusions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light faded from Candor and, slowly, Anomen stowed his weapon. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. For the Love of Lies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>While the githyanki might’ve remembered their ship being salvaged by drow, </span>
  <em>
    <span>to the south</span>
  </em>
  <span> was not truly enough to go on. Thalia did not have second thoughts about leaving them. Still, the walk proved troublesome. Before, Viconia had led them in a meandering wander, survival paramount. It took a distant second place now. No longer did they avoid predator nests and patches of fireweed fungi. They were introduced to the horrid things that lurked in shadows. Hook horrors. Cloakers. Kuo-toa patrols. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bloodied and battered, the mindflayers’ brain-like gruel became a foggy memory. The mushroom broth from ages past long forgotten. Thalia did not worry. She was incapable of fear for another, but she knew she should’ve. She feared well for her own survival. One night — was </span>
  <em>
    <span>night</span>
  </em>
  <span> even an appropriate term in the land without sun or moon? — Anomen grew frustrated and skinned one of the kuo-toa. Rather, scaled it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That thing used weapons,” said Thalia. The spear was nothing exceptional and they </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>attempted to enslave them, but it had been crafted. It was no beast. “It’s wearing jewelry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a big fish,” he said, exasperated. “Looks like a red snapper on legs to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced to Viconia, who only shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kuo-toa are common slaves of illithids. Psionic abuse over millenia softened their wits, but… it is said humans taste like pig, no?” Her smile was twisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Anomen’s urging, Haer’Dalis lit a magical fire. Some pieces were bulbous, but they were recognisable as thick filets. Torn apart from the skeleton, robes, and head, it did rather look just like a fish. A fatty white fish. Not quite snapper, but close enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s stomach cramped painfully. In the quiet, hers was not the only one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darklakes and purewater grottos were common enough, but they held no food. Most fungi spewed poisoned gas. Lichen drove to madness. All that remained was monsters, who often had poisonous flesh. Or thinking creatures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell was mouth-watering. Fat sizzled and the smoke blackened with familiar scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gauntness haunted Anomen’s eyes. Even Haer’Dalis, already sharp-featured, had nothing more than knives for bones. Edwin had never looked more like a skeleton. Time was in short supply. She knew they could be turning in circles, hunting this fabled Ust Natha for months more and find nothing. Maybe it was time to let go of hope. The kuo-toa patrol had come from somewhere, surely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If hunger, thirst, or monsters did not get them, a degree of madness would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None complained when Anomen declared their dinner cooked. Their first hot dinner since entering the Underdark. Thalia misliked how little she hesitated. The meat was delicious, the fat buttery, but most of the lean was cooked well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If any are still hungry, there are plenty more,” said Anomen with a cruel, full laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dozen other kuo-toa corpses hung at the edge of their camp, smelling too much like briny fish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It could use salt,” said Thalia dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen laughed again. “Aye, and a cut of lemon or butter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you ought trade your spear for a cleaver, butcher,” said Edwin, but there was no jibe to his comment. He ate as eagerly as the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen still took it as an insult, though. “I’ve seen your looks askance, and I’ll have none of your unwavering eyes — or treachery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin rolled those unwavering eyes. “I care nothing for what you will have, no matter how you gild your words.” He smiled. “Be thankful for my scrutiny. Very few outside the Red Wizards are worthy of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think to mean by that?” exclaimed Anomen. He sat bolt upright. “I am nothing like you and your ilk! Find your dark corner for the night and leave me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” said Edwin, standing. “Yes, nothing like us at all and certainly not growing more so every day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shadows swallowed him briskly into the tiny cave they had settled on as a sleeping spot. Anomen glued his stare to the blackness. The words clearly irked him, but not enough to stop him from grabbing another kuo-toa and a dirk. As if he could replace the sudden drop of weight from his own body in a night of feasting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the remains of their supper, Thalia exchanged a wordless look with Haer’Dalis. He nodded his assent and stood, following Anomen. Their words were hushed, even against the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t live in the wilds,” said Thalia to Viconia. She picked the last meat off a bony spine and tried to think not of where on her body that meat might’ve come from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I mind little,” she said, amused. “I spent near fifty years in this darkness. She is my mother. And, if the bitter knight is searching for a succulent meal, I’ve little meat on my bones. My bet is on Edwin as the first to go. All fat and gristle, though, I suspect. No muscle at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fifty years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea made Thalia feel sick in a way that had nothing to do with dinner. Maybe a little to do with dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen signs of a settlement?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The kuo-toa likely belonged to the illithid,” said Viconia. “They wandered, half-mad. Death was a mercy. But…” She glanced into the tiny grotto. Deep within, veins of blue crystal glowed eerily. “Deep gnomes and dwarves settle near these patches of virfira.” She grimaced. “Drow may feel the stone and I feel a great many more within. Yet, what may we find? Svirfneblin, suspicious and cold? Duergar, the very same outcasts of dwarves as drow are to darthiir? Shield dwarves, known to kill drow and their slaves on sight?” She shrugged. “None would offer refuge. Do you think I spent those years alone while brimming with choice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can scout,” said Thalia stonily. She threw the bones into the grotto and they sank into the depths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You refuse to let Anomen gamble his life and now think to do the same with ours?” she scoffed. “No settlement will be easy to </span>
  <em>
    <span>scout</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They shall be prepared for any tactics and know their land impeccably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk it out with Edwin. He may have a spell that could aid you or—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia scowled and hurled her own fish bones. They splashed and sent up a torrent of ice water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is as trapped as any of us,” said Thalia flatly. “That poke at Anomen was the most insufferable he’s been for days. He’s scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” she snarled. “The male ought be brought low.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at the gamble of our lives. Of us all, do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> the powerful wizard to become desperate? Who knows if he brought the Nether Scroll, the planar jewel, or worse with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia relented and stood. “I do this for you, khal-abbil,” she said, marching off into the darkness where Edwin had retired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed at the grotto for three more cycles. Thalia woke with a full stomach for the first time in ages. Her muscles ached less. The stale icy water from the grotto even went down easier. Time passed in the monotone silence, which beat back most attempts at conversation and even Haer’Dalis’ attempts at verse. He pulled Anomen into a fighter’s choreography they had been practicing. Each wielding one of Haer’Dalis’ swords, they fought invisible shadows in tandem. Anomen was getting better, as he flowed through the stances. Haer’Dalis was more liquid than man, and a poor comparison, though excellent teacher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia and Edwin remained huddled in private conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia cleaned her armor with a well-worn rag. She attempted, not for the first time, to drag a net through her memories in hopes of eliciting emotion. Sometimes, she would hit something. And it would hit her back. The feeling enraptured her — most often misery or sorrow, but pockets of joy hid. Emotions came at random. Sometimes, heartfelt moments at Candlekeep with Imoen, other times a flash of irritation when she remembered that merchant in Beregost who overcharged her for boiled ham. Nothing seemed worth prodding at and she left her memories alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A svirfneblin town is six miles east of us,” proclaimed Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence shattered and Anomen stumbled over himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and Edwin returned from the cave. Both looked exhausted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As marvelous a word, that tells us little and less,” said Haer’Dalis. He helped Anomen to stand. “Are we but a day’s march from friendly faces and warm fires?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unlikely,” said Viconia stiffly. “We should be prepared to trade something to stay with the grey gnomes.” She inclined her head. “One of those sun blades might make them overlook my own heritage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Underdark creatures loath the sun,” said Thalia. She moved Aurora from their sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Precisely why they are so valuable,” said Edwin, his voice cutting. “Unless you feel like drawing straws, to see who ought be sold into slavery? I might offer a volunteer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be rude about it,” said Thalia. She struggled with only two hands to put her armor back on, but then Anomen was there to help her. “We’ll pay what we need to. I don’t need Yoshimo’s trophy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin rose an eyebrow. Had he, too, been pouring over old memories? After Thalia had slew Minsc and Dynaheir, she had blanched and cursed him out for daring speak their names — even many days later. Yoshimo’s name came without even a stammer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Six miles was not a terribly long journey by foot. Over rough rock, down drops, and waiting impatiently for levitation spells to scale sheer cliffs, it took far too long. Thalia longed for a clock or the sun — something to justify dinner and a long sleep. But she was not weak yet. And, they pressed on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chasm split the rock. Even the Slayer’s new gift of sight couldn’t find a bottom to it. Yet, the rope bridge promised craftsmen, civilization, and something kin to an inn. A prison cell at this point wouldn’t be entirely unloved, if it meant regular food and safety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rope seemed to be new and of hair, shortened to accommodate gnomes, and delicate enough to be cut. The drop could casually take care of invaders. Any who tried to magic their way across would easily be shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the darkness, a crossbow wound and clicked. The head of a bolt peeked over a barricade on the other side. He called something in the language Viconia termed Undercommon. Viconia responded in kind. They swapped languages easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From where?” called the gnome in a greasy voice. “Go on, surface drow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia raised her hand. “I hail by birth from Menzoberranzan, to the north, but I escaped and came out by the High Moor. I’ve lived three years on the Sword Coast — Baldur’s Gate, Beregost, Athkatla.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gnome grunted. “And you came back with slaves, did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitated. “I’ve found my way back, through unfortunate accident. These are… </span>
  <em>
    <span>allies</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she spat with a curled lip. “We each are indentured in our servitude to each other. Though we seek to escape the wilds, I will not sell them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crossbolt retreated from its sight. The gnome, a stumpy grey thing with white eyes and hair, stepped out with a dozen others in thick iron armor. He shouldered the crossbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friends of the drow we are not,” he declared. His eyes slid to Edwin. “Should the wizard prove of use, you may stay. We’ll tolerate you, drow. Break the peace and we break you, understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The armed gnomes escorted them through the village. It opened into a large cavern. Rooms honeycombed the rock, passageways blocked by doors of cloth or flats of slate. A herd of rothe and goats feasted on a carpet of moss and lichen. A reservoir turned with lush fish as they flopped over the waterfall. Their procession drew curious surly eyes from gnomes tending the flock or weaving wool. A dim magical light hung over the crops and animals, but much was cast in darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gnomes led them across more bridges and to a central building. It didn’t look any more impressive than an inn, but Thalia realised it was the only wood she had seen down here. A rich deep walnut, oiled to a shine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Argument within ceased as the armed gnomes prodded them in. A gruff conversation spread rapidly between them. The high table in the hall was wood as well, but all else stone or wool. A bone chandelier hung low, sparkling with every colour of gem. Cut sharply, the faucets left the great hall in a dim multi-coloured glow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One gnome separated himself from the council. They were a stubby, pudgy people, with iron grey skin and ears that pointed sideways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surprising that you travel with the darkness of a drow, surfacers,” he said. He gave Viconia another glance. “Let alone one that bears no house sigil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I find it more surprising that you svirfneblin risk my anger by pointing me out,” snapped Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia put out an arm to stop her from punting the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gnome’s eyes watched carefully. “Her kind does not often make social calls. You must tell me, daughter of sky, what brings this motley bunch to my door?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A portal,” said Thalia shortly. “We followed an… enemy of mine, another surfacer and his sister. Elves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bodhi likely returned to Athkatla,” said Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia ground her teeth, but the gnome leader didn’t seem to recognise either name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You require safety from the darks.” The leader glanced to his fellows and nodded. “Goldaner,” he introduced himself. “And Blackenrock’s beds are yours, should you sell your wizard — or at least his services.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His expertise is his alone and a slave to his temper,” said Thalia. She smiled thinly. “Have fun working with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gnomes muttered approvingly. Even in the Underdark, it seemed, the tempers of wizards were legendary things. Thalia did not know if she had ever seen Edwin so pleased. The broad smile unnerved her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may rest in Blackenrock until you decide to pursue your enemy west,” said Goldaner. He folded his hands. “Oh, yes, scouts reported them,” he added at Thalia’s shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irenicus came through here?” she demanded. “When?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goldaner seemed disturbed by the question. “Svirneblin do not keep </span>
  <em>
    <span>time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, only as we live in the present—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did they go?” said Thalia impatiently. She resisted the urge to smack the befuddled face. “How many miles away could they be? Did they have any others with them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I quite like these people,” said Haer’Dalis with a fond smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia slid her glare to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goldaner bristled at her tone. “They retired to Ust Natha. Where beyond, I do not know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ust Natha?” said Viconia, stunned. “We are that close to it?” She grimaced and explained briefly, “The Exodus, when drow were driven below. Ust Natha is a mirror of the darthiir city above, the First City built by drow in the Underdark. I… have never been this far east.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goldaner smiled, revealing black gaps in his teeth. “If the wizard aids us, I will send you to a dear friend of Blackenrock who may aid you. She is called Adalon by choice, though speak it only with greatest respect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, the mighty wizard will aid you, gnomelings,” said Edwin smartly. He waved a hand. “First, before accessing the services and powers of one of the greatest conjurers the Red Wizards have ever produced, I’ve demands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O-Of course,” said Goldaner at once. “Whatever you require shall be provided.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A hot bath drawn from volcano spring waters, oiled and perfumed as befits our stature.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For each of us,” said Anomen, catching on. He caught the eye of one of the gnomes at the side. “You may wish to take notes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gnome looked to Goldaner, who nodded, and began to make marks on the stone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed,” said Edwin briskly, his smile growing. “And a hot meal, an assortment of delicately prepared dishes of whatever may be rustled up in this hellsabandoned hole. I spotted the rothe. We will stay here a time and have full appetites. Do not make the commonfolk error of overcooking the robust meat until it is more fit for a cobbler than a diner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t bother cooking mine at all,” said Haer’Dalis. He shrugged at the gnomes’ horror. “Tieflings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” said Goldaner uncertainly, “that all sounds… agreeable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And our clothes are in need of laundering, patching, and refreshing,” continued Edwin heedlessly. “Additionally, if you keep slaves of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bigger races</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as I’m sure you call those of standard height, have a female of dark hair, agreeable temperament, and ample bosom washed and sent to my quarters. Speaking of, we each require our own quarters — and of substantial area. No closets. I would meet with your mage, arcanist, alchemist, or some such herbalist to procure spell components, which I expect at no cost to my person.” He scowled. “And no more of this… indignity,” he said, waving over the armed escort who stared at him with bugged eyes. “We must walk freely through your city and treated with deepest respects.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goldaner seemed far more uncertain and a grey flush crept up his neck. “V-Very well, wizard. Meet with the council. They will tell you of our problem. I’ll see to your demands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goldaner left with the armed guard and the scribe who had taken careful notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia snickered. “How long have you been preparing that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Each night it grew longer,” he said darkly from the edge of his mouth. Edwin sighed as he considered the other gnomes. “I will find you if I’ve need of you. For now, you may fill your time with creative and pleasing ways to show your appreciation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” said Thalia sincerely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a bit early for that yet,” said Anomen, chuckling. “I’ll thank him if I see hide or hair of this rothe steak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goldaner urged them to follow him, though he didn’t make anymore promises once Edwin was out of earshot. They were indeed each given their own rooms. As the armed escort returned to their posts, Thalia began to relax. Their quarters must’ve been sizable for gnomes, a small ladder leading to a loft shelf that Anomen easily reached from the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The promise of baths, at least, came true. The speed with which they came and the heavy perfumes gave a distinct idea of quite how badly they smelled. Left alone in her own room, Thalia couldn’t identify the scents. Musky, sweet, with a bite of minerals. A very large piece of soap rested on the ledge of the stone basin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slipped in eagerly, though kept Aurora in arm’s reach. She did not expect the gnomes to betray them, exactly, but it remained a possibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The oil and soap soon turned the thick waters opaque as they stole the grime and ages of travel. How long had it been? Since the mindflayers? Since the portal and Spellhold? Had it been a month yet? More, even? It was a testament to the time that they had long passed the threat of killing each other. Instead, they had fallen to a hopeless silence. Grim. Dependent. She was not sure she wanted to know what lay beyond that silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water moistened her hair and she sunk lower with a soft moan. It became soft again in the silky water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tenday or two of recovery, at most, and they could pick up Irenicus’ trail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This ally of the gnomes, Adalon, and how she could smuggle them into the drow city. Thalia had to ask Viconia more of this city, Ust Natha. And, when they arrived, see if they could come across a spelljammer, if Haer’Dalis could captain it. Surfacers, clearly, were rare and memorable. The drow would know Irenicus, where he fled next. And she would find him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boots passed before the cloth door. They passed again. Thalia narrowed her eyes and reached for Aurora. A hand knocked quietly on the stone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t Edwin. Unfortunate. She wanted to know what task these gnomes wanted done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” she said cautiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen lifted the curtain and hesitated, but when she returned his stare evenly, he sat on the gnomish chair. His knees almost bent to his chin. Already having bathed, he looked better than he had for ages. Wet hair, but combed, his scraggly beard mostly shaven again. He looked everywhere but at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does a friend frighten you so?” she asked. “I’ve spent a lifetime in those dark pits covered in blood, cloaker slime, dirt, and our own filth, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> you flinch at bare shoulders?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen chuckled. He resettled himself on the floor, though came no closer. Candor glowed in his hands, no larger than a torch, though it illuminated the whole room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never fought alongside a woman in the Order,” he admitted. “It was considered improper, the closeness of man and woman unbecoming, despite mutual vows of noninterference and chastity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then, might I make us less close and say you look like a fool?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he did. On such short notice, the gnomes didn’t have clothing sized for humans. They also somehow figured surfacers would know what to do with a large bolt of cloth and a pin. Thalia had figured that a problem to tackle later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen had wrapped his sheet around him, willy-nilly. It covered the important parts, but it was clearly uncomfortable and he held it together with his spare hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled to himself. “You may, but take care I don’t rob you of what stitch of clothing these gnomes have left us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia drew her fingers through the water. “Oh, I figure I shall just live in this bath. Much more pleasant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, her words killed the bright look in his eye and the air seemed to hush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This quiet… in the wilds, it gives a man too much time with himself,” said Anomen, swallowing. “I’ve made many mistakes. I’ve insulted where I’ve meant to amuse. I’ve amused where I wished to insult. I’d ask your forgiveness, for freezing when I should’ve replied.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feelings can remain unspoken,” said Thalia flatly. “Unspoken doesn’t mean unfelt — or unknown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” He sighed. “And I knew you to be a hard patron when I gave my oath. You were not abandoning the green elves and our allies, but saving my life. That both goals required the same action is meaningless. You had good intent and I was wrong to argue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Question me,” she said coldly. “Argue. I am not a god — now, least of all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are worthy of my service,” he said, as though he hadn’t heard her speak. “That’s what matters. You put my life over that of strangers. Any less and I ought’ve rescinded my oath. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> are worthy of me, now more than ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia scowled and her hand dropped back in the water. It splashed. “You made that oath hastily. What do you think you’ll get out of it, especially now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Purpose,” she repeated blithely. She hesitated, more out of habit than desire, and found she couldn’t bring herself to care if she hurt his feelings. “Where I am going is no place for knights, heroes, and fantasies. Have you looked even once at the company you keep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friends,” said Anomen at once. He smiled. “Some less pleasant than others, but even Edwin’s prickles come in useful when it is time to stab something, as these gnomes have proven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jealously, to her displeasure, was an emotion she still felt capable of. Friends. Her memories were intact. She remembered what it felt like, to long for another’s company, to enjoy it, to trust, to truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> for them. Empathy. It was not that her fondness had vanished, nor blunted. Instead, everything was crystal clear, too sharp. It was impossible to ignore those things glanced over for the sake of fondness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve a far better heart than I,” she said weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A cruel untruth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A truthful cruelty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen repressed a smile. “Haer’Dalis is good at infecting others, isn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good for something, at least,” said Thalia with a sigh. “He didn’t have the courage to find dinner when we starved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile faded. “I did what I had to. I’m free of regrets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia had been about to be rude, when she gave him a second glance. It was part of the oath he had foolishly sworn to her. Perhaps it being </span>
  <em>
    <span>to her</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the least important part of it. That it was sworn and accepted might have been enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said, “but you didn’t come here to speak of red snapper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have opened myself to you more than once,” he said softly. “I’ve followed you into the tenth hell, and I would again happily. When I first met you, I knew there was something about you. Some rhythm of your heart, some hint of the darkness behind the light of your soul, I am not sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen inched closer and laid a hand on the edge of the basin. His gaze did not lower from her own eyes, held prisoner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moira shall forever hold a place in my heart that none can fill,” said Anomen, pain itching his voice, “as I’m sure Imoen shall for you. But I shall carry you — patron, friend, sister — alongside her, with love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she didn’t reply, his look became a touch bashful, as though embarrassed he had said something wrong again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do gnomes play cards, you think?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> blustered Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I used to be quite good at chaltar,” she mused. “It’s been a long time, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve spent so long together and, while we might’ve sparred once or twice, have we ever simply had fun? Laughed? Told stories? We are not friends,” she said, matter-of-fact. “We’ve been dependents and warriors fighting to survive, jumping from job to job. Let us be friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen smiled, rich and warm. Somehow, it wrung an imitation of the expression from Thalia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The curtain door whipped open and Edwin strode in. Anomen leapt to his feet, Candor bursting into a blinding light. By the time it faded, the sheet gnomes had offered for clothing lay draped over the basin. It hid Thalia from the neck below, murky water be damned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia looked up at him, puzzled. “Concerned for my modesty?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More to keep his leering gaze aside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin blinked away the light and laughed. “Do you assume all are as slaves to their base desires because you are or because your father is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen spluttered, wounded, but Thalia did not watch him. She watched the sneer on Edwin’s face stiffen and then fade. It was not an apology. Nothing Anomen would recognise as regret, but Edwin had known he had stepped the line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The task for these gnomes is simple,” proclaimed Edwin. “I will drag it some days, still, but we will have dominion over this place for as long as we wish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Their witless digging disturbed a slumbering demon,” said Edwin airily. “It has proven to have quite the appetite for our stout grey sourpusses, but will be no match for my vast knowledge of the planes and creatures wherein.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” asked Anomen coldly. “Would hate to find out it also had a taste for cruel wizards who don’t know to stop insulting the one who stops foes from ripping apart his pretty red dress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin scowled. “I don’t need your blundering aid. I am more than capable enough on my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was an offer—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this a gift! Simply accept it or you might find it to be the last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a huff, Edwin turned and dashed back out through the curtain. It waved behind him. Anomen stared at it, dimly. He resettled the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the hells, what was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> about?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tossed aside the sheet, crawling from the bath. “Edwin attempting to be nice — very poorly.” She wrapped the towel around herself. “Find the others and some sort of game. And alcohol. And snacks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haer’Dalis… and Viconia?” asked Anomen, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, both. Ensure they’ve bathed and are wearing this — ridiculous — garment,” she grunted, as she adjusted the fall of the overlarge wool sheet. She settled for wrapping it like the towel, above her breasts, and holding the sides closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen was many things. Tonight, Thalia was thankful he was obedient. Perhaps, he, too, had a fondness for Viconia — even if she had no interest in joining them. Soon enough, he returned to her room with Haer’Dalis and an armful of errands. Haer’Dalis, like Anomen, looked remarkably clean and well-kept. The change was startling and, being rather less broad, the cloth even gave the impression of fitting him better. It knotted a strange skirt, the end tossed over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen poured them short glasses of what looked to be clotted cream. “Don’t ask me what it is,” he said, passing Thalia one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sniffed it. It smelled strongly of spirits and brine. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis clinked his own against theirs and tossed it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even Anomen seemed to have second thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, live a little before you’re dead,” abashed Haer’Dalis. He inspected the bowl of fish jerky and hurled a piece into the air, catching it on his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen raised his glass to Thalia. They clinked. And drank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia almost vomited. They both bent double, coughing. A strong hand thumped them both on the back. The drink was almost as strong as the thick taste of sour fish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What… What is that?” asked Thalia, gasping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both ignored her, Anomen wincing as he took a second drink. He sucked at his teeth, breath whistling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you find a game?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found Haer’Dalis,” said Anomen, shrugging. “That’s just as good, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A game?” said Haer’Dalis. “Ah, my raven, what of </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>game? You try to guess what this repulsive beverage is and every time you are wrong, you drink. If you guess correctly, Anomen will drink it all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal,” said Thalia, grabbing Haer’Dalis’ hand to shake as Anomen stuttered over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No deal!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too late, my hound. Deal twas struck.” His eyes glittered. “Now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> is this drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An alcoholic drink crafted by gnomes,” she said slyly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A riddler and a fiend!” Haer’Dalis laughed and handed the pitcher to Anomen. “Oh, this sparrow should’ve been more specific. Drink up, there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen ignored their game and refilled their cups. “It was fermented fish milk or nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stopped, the tainted cup touching her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen nodded grimly. “I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had worse,” said Haer’Dalis lightly. He sat on the room’s tiny table that was more a stool. “Ever have I told about the Sensates? A faction kin to Doomguard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You rarely talk about Sigil,” said Anomen, intrigued. He sat himself on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. “Aye, because if this bard ever had, you could be assured your ears would still bleed the tales.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From every other way we’ve bled, bruised, had our bones and hearts and minds broken, I daresay a little ear bleeding might be alright,” said Thalia. She found her voice lie too flat, making her sardonic comment sound serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis snatched his instrument from the stash and plucked absently. The off-kilter notes were the furthest thing from a song, but Thalia felt her already calm heart become still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Sensates are another guild of Sigil, a brotherhood of philosophy and rule,” he said. “I nearly joined them. They’ve quite the outlook on life. Sensates believe life is meant to be experienced, that meaning is found in the senses. Naturally, some turn to hedonism, but others yet are explorers. They toss themselves casually into every experience of the planes, hunting for nuances of sensation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imagine most tend to hedonism,” said Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed,” said Haer’Dalis. His smile crooked. “Yet, they don’t do it very well. To such people, the sweet pleasures of life… the heat of battlefields and bars and bed… tis too common.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever drank?” asked Thalia with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis’ face remained calm and blank, but his fingers found the tune he wanted. A sly haunting jaunt. “First, you must know Sigil. Breathe her fragrance. Walk with me, friends. No sky, no sun nor rain nor moon, only the roads above as the streets turn into a torus. Curio shops, taverns, and spelljammer ports. And everywhere you turn, doors. For she is the City of Doors. Thousands of portals to every door in every plane worth opening. Tis a nexus, a crossroads, and a prison. A cage. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The</span>
  </em>
  <span> Cage, called by some, as most doors are locked. Without a key, there is no escape. Yet, with the correct key or connections, my friends, the possibilities are endless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at Anomen, Thalia knew she didn’t feel the same half-drunken excitement. She felt little. Still, the more she strained and sought words for the minute changes in her emptiness, the more she feared she imagined it. The contentedness. A lingering safe peace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haer’Dalis likes his cage, then?” asked Anomen brightly. “Never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She poured her and Anomen another cup and she sat next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis chuckled. “Every rule has the dark it cannot touch. She is the only cage I submit to willingly.” He breathed deep in longing. “Fifteen factions squabble and scrap for influence over the day-to-day. Yet, none would exist if it were not for the will of the one true ruler of Sigil. The Lady of Pain. Silent, ruthless, and beautiful. She maintains her Cage and all the doors herein. Her rule is law and defying invites a brutal death — or worse. And this is where our night begins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The worst drink you ever had,” said Thalia wryly. “Sensates?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In time,” he said, irritated. “This bard met her once, this mistress and god-queen of the planes. Her visage is enigmatic and alluring, but deliberately, to invoke hounds to sniff where they shouldn’t. Twas an accident, truly, as I accompanied one hound with far less sense than you. This hound of mine declared his worship of the Lady and she appeared above the streets, masked and robed. Skin peeled from him as though an orange. The Lady gazed upon this bard and he knew that, whatever her origins, mortals were not to know.” His voice lowered further. “She left her mark well on me, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across Haer’Dalis’ face, he had a number of oddly thick scars, not thin but delicate curved spines almost two inches thick. As if the skin had been flayed. Thalia’s eyes slipped down his bare chest, where the stripes continued. They pulled around his ribs, thicker but just as sharp. And she realised he stared at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had a feeling the story was intimate. It meant something to Haer’Dalis. More than just a story. Perhaps the act of sharing should’ve meant something to her, too. Should she want to touch those scars? Trace their path? Could those dark eyes and shared drinks have meant something?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis continued, saying how he had been found by a Sensate friend and dragged into a tavern. They dried the blood from his wounds and pushed a mug of bufo into his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A liquor of fermented toad urine and a mild toxin that numbed the tongue and, over a night, gave a very reliable death,” said Haer’Dalis cheerily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was this what you meant by fun?” Anomen turned to Thalia with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You three are drinking </span>
  <em>
    <span>fish milk?”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  said Viconia, outraged. She stood in the curtain door, a dark glass jug dangling from her fingers. Somehow, she, like Haer’Dalis, managed to make the large sheet look stylish. The pin fastened over her breast. “I shouldn’t have expected anything more, but you shouldn’t allow those foul svirfneblin to cheat you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dropped the jug on the table next to Haer’Dalis, who smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, my blackbird, is that deathsdew?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia fought the smile on her lips. “Few of the Underdark drink anything else, if they’ve a choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re saying those gnomes pawned this swill off on me?” asked Anomen, standing. “They’re all laughing behind my back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Viconia took the empty cup from his hands and refilled it with deathsdew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen eyed it uncertainly. “Uh… what exactly is this? The name isn’t… ah, thrilling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if fish are milked, jaluk,” she scoffed. “Death’s head mushrooms are the most common crop of the Middledark. Poisonous raw, safe when cooked or fermented. Drink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen risked another uneasy glance but drank it down. He didn’t spit it out. Thalia accepted a new cup of it. It was savoury and rich, far thicker than wine but with a similar acidic bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not quite wine, but a drink with legs enough to stand alone,” said Haer’Dalis, smacking his lips. “Viconia, we were sharing stories. The finest accompaniment to drink is entertainment. By your natural grace, striking beauty, exotic voice, I would eagerly await your own tales.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See something you desire?” asked Viconia. “Flattery is empty words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My words always be full. Such a life,” he said in a hush. “This rugged hellscape of the Underdark, the turmoil of outcast from your ancestral home, and the dark lives of the drow. Any moment of that life ought be a worthy accompaniment to the dew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia hesitated. Still, she did not sit, nor drink the beverage she brought. She lingered by the door, as if to leave at any moment. Her bare shoulders were tense and brittle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you know about Ust Natha?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This sounds much like </span>
  <em>
    <span>work</span>
  </em>
  <span> and very little like fun,” grumbled Anomen, reaching for his cup again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia breathed a sigh of relief. “Little, aside from ancient history. It’s not a true city, but a port, a comings-and-goings place of merchants, traders, noble houses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Delightful,” said Haer’Dalis lightly, “and this sparrow assumes they accept outsiders with open arms and free drinks, and are just as charming company as yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all. This must be done by stealth and at great risk,” said Viconia. “Fear of the Matron Mothers will also limit those outcasts who might’ve worked to our aid, for coin or other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any chance we could portray ourselves as more fearsome, or persuade them that Irenicus could be a threat?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia considered, but began to shake her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Work!” exclaimed Anomen with more vigor. He stormed back across the room, the drama of his frustration hindered by the sheet. “With drink, a talented bard, and the cumulative life experience to make any tavern maid tremble, are we truly incapable of talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>other than our next goal and villains and curs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia refilled her drink thoughtfully. The answer she saw clear enough in Viconia’s eyes. Yes, that was all. That was all, truly, they had in common. Their quest bound them together and, eventually, once completed, they would fall apart. Inevitable. Entropy. The destiny of a lonesome death that awaited all mortals. Pretending elsewise was a foolish illusion. A naked lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did Viconia or I ever tell the story of the necromancer of Beregost?” asked Thalia. As a pair of </span>
  <em>
    <span>no’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> came from the men, she continued, “It was the day after we found Viconia—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no,” chastised Haer’Dalis. He resettled the instrument on his lap. “Director of this production, you’ve actors at your disposal and a… a very small orchestra, I’m afraid. Describe the scene, this town or mighty city, so we do not feel the lack of set.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grunted at the idea of Beregost being anything other than a backwater waystop. She and Viconia set the scene, the wild bounty of five thousand gold to bring the necromancing Cyricist low. The horde of undead awaited — played fitfully by a groaning Anomen. The necromancer had lost his senses, believing those he resurrected to be his dead family. Haer’Dalis found his tragic song, though it was ruined quickly. The necromancer had </span>
  <em>
    <span>recognised</span>
  </em>
  <span> Khalid as his long-dead father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia mimicked the Sharran prayer that repelled undead and Anomen skittered away with a pale childish shriek. Thalia and Anomen broke down laughing. Haer’Dalis’ solemn song warbled on a too-dramatic note, sloping downwards, and it only made them laugh harder. It took Thalia a moment. She scarcely recognised the other voice, and she realised she had never heard Viconia laugh like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The necromancer was soon killed by an arrow from Imoen, the bounty collected, and peace restored to the central Sword Coast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mention of Imoen sent all eyes to Thalia. The glee died in the air. She took another drink, hoping against hope it would elicit something in her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She had good aim, even as a novice,” said Viconia heavily. “A girl so sweet her very breath could candy meat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imoen loved stories, but she hated reading them,” said Thalia, her voice too calm and flat. She couldn’t find the energy to inject something more. “Said reading gave her a headache, but I think it was only because she preferred when I told them. Candlekeep had archives of most every song, story, and legend from the Sword Coast to Kara-Tur. Ones of Drizzt or dragons were her favourite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know one, my raven, that combines this Drizzt and a dragon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia drank again and nodded. “Pick a happier tune. This one’s particularly funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis obliged and managed to find something peppier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been so long. More than a year since she had last been in Candlekeep, well more since the last time she had browsed the pages, but the story came to her easily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Drizzt and the Ice Dragon</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She was right. It was very funny. After the jar of deathsdew had emptied, Anomen roped Viconia into portraying the craggly woodswitch, along with a half dozen other roles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last time Thalia had told it, it had been her and Imoen’s last day in Candlekeep. They hadn’t known it at the time. A day like any other, a hiding hole in the library’s walls. Thalia continued by memory, her eyes shut, and Imoen appeared in her mind’s eye. Pink and orange, sharp elbows and jaw, a chalk slate on her lap. She drew the ice dragon, but it looked like a large white chicken. With an aggressive scribble, Drizzt defeated the dragon, kissed his love, and went on home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia opened her eyes. Imoen was not there. Instead, Haer’Dalis, Anomen, and Viconia were. Anomen, playing Drizzt, had goodnaturedly attempted to kiss his Catie-Brie. Viconia swatted him and rewrote the ending to one where the poor girl ran off into the woods. Haer’Dalis took over and the story spun further away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia was thankful to not have a soul, then. She wouldn’t want to know by guilt or heartsickness if it was an unfair trade.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Ust Natha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thalia kept a close eye on their unwilling hosts. Viconia insisted svirfneblin were surly and ungrateful by nature, though to expect no treachery. Edwin had dragged his task out a number of days, but always seemed confident. Once completed, he gloated his victory over the stunned gnomes and demanded a new favour. Thalia had been about to strangle him, until he insisted upon meting this Adalon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goldard’s eyes narrowed. “You have done us a great service, wizard, but the Lady Adalon is a great power and can see into the hearts of mortals. Your safety cannot be promised should you stand in her presence, nor any crude demands granted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not be questioned by talking shoe leather,” snapped Edwin. “I stated my terms and I will have that what is owed. Your demon is banished. Now, reveal where you keep this witch!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Witch?” repeated another gnome, outraged. A member of the council held him back from attacking them outright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adalon lives past a tunnel of living darkness,” said Goldard mildly. “You may walk past it a thousand times and never see it. To those folk she trusts, she gifts stones that pierce the defences.” He nodded a sharp head to one of the guards, who produced an egg-shaped rock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin snatched and pocketed it. “Then, our business has finally reached its conclusion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive the celebrations Blackenrock will have at your exit,” droned one of the councilors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you dare claim the safety of your town, the lives of your children, and what your own mage has learned for basking in my presence is not worth the price of a little liquor, a rock, and a rothe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our business has ended,” said Goldard firmly. “Do not overstay your welcome. It runs dry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go, Edwin,” warned Thalia. “We’ve got what we’ve came for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one more foul look, Edwin turned from the gnomes and they received an armed escort to the wobbling bridge. Viconia held Thalia back, as Edwin strode forward. Evidently, she wasn’t the only one to worry of treachery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oblivious, Edwin stopped at the other end of the chasm. “What now! Have you developed a fear of heights, drow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once safely across, Thalia took the stone from him. It glowed faintly on one side, as though a compass needle. The glow strengthened with every step. Edwin, of course, had nothing complimentary to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This Adalon ought be a better witch than this guidestone indicates,” he scoffed. “A novice transmutation student could whip that up over lunch and still have time for tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe she just knows the drow city,” said Anomen. Back in the wilds, he used Candor as little more than a walking stick. A wingfish scampered to darker corners above. “Or can get us information from, what did you call them? Matrons?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Matron mothers,” said Viconia unwillingly. “Each noble house is led by a matriarch, who form a council. To a one, they are the most suspicious, cruel, and ruthless of their city.  Every matron mother waits for the time her First Daughter will slay her and take her place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How tragically charming,” said Haer’Dalis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stone directed them down a tunnel that swallowed even Candor’s light. The faint glow of the guidestone in Thalia’s hand barely illuminated their faces. Edwin cursed in rough Thayvian. Magelights snapped on and off, like struck matches. The burnt smell of ozone hung heavy. Steel slid from sheathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful,” said Thalia in a light voice. “We don’t mean to offend the witch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without warning, the darkness vanished. Braziers roared to life with silver flames, throwing the carved walls into sharp relief. The guidestone slipped to crack on the floor. Haer’Dalis and Viconia lowered their swords.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck,” whispered Anomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All that waited for them in the cavern when the darkness cleared was a dragon. Skin like molten silver and powerful folded wings. She had a cunning face spanned with fins. Her tail unraveled and she stood, each step rattling through the stone. At her full height, her wings would’ve blotted out the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” said Thalia. Unable to take her eyes off, she scrambled for the guidestone at their feet. “Sorry to disturb—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome,” said a haughty female voice in her mind. “Welcome to my lair. I’ve watched your progress with great interest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shared look said they had all heard it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, my lady,” said Edwin with little humility, “I know I am a grand sight to catch the interest of a silver dragon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your ego swells undeservedly, conjurer,” said Adalon. “Interest does not mark approval nor support. Do not presume to be in my good graces. I am not as tolerant as others of my kind.” Her wings creaked as they stretched. “I am Adalon the Guardian and I have done my duty with the passing of the age.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What requires such a magnificent guardian?” asked Haer’Dalis. Awestruck, he took several meandering steps forward. “You are truly the most stunning sight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am, of course,” said Adalon smugly. “My charge is the elven ruins above, an ancient temple what marks the eldest gateway to the Underdark — the place where Lolth’s Children first descended. As I decree, other folk have garnered my favour and my guardianship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I seek Jon Irenicus,” said Thalia, raising her voice. The stone walls echoed back at her. “He and perhaps his sister, Bodhi, came through not too long ago. Surface elves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Silence!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The word roared in Thalia’s mind and drove her to her knees. The very walls of her mind vibrated with the anger. None of the others had been affected and Anomen helped her stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is an important matter and I shall not be interrupted!” said Adalon darkly. “A great crime has been committed and I am unable to honour my commitment. You have not my favour. Help me and I will aid you in turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” Thalia grit her teeth. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The drow respected once these borders, venturing only for sport and small raids. That was the agreed upon balance.” Adalon’s massive head turned and she huffed. “These two you seek, they have struck a deal. The balance is broken. They made a deal with the drow for their own safe passage and offered to tip the scales against their elven enemy above.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And they just strolled right on by?” demanded Edwin. “Pardon me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>madam</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but you are no svirfneblin begging for help. Did not such a noble creature sense their unnatural state, their despotic natures?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smoke drifted from her nostrils. Adalon’s wide chest struck deeper breaths, and then it was Edwin who fell to his knees by some untold force. When none moved to, Thalia pulled him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irenicus bargained with my most prized possession,” said Adalon. “He violated my lair and stole from me. The greatest treasure a mortal could cart from a dragon’s lair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eggs,” said Haer’Dalis at once. “Oh, my dear, what a trap you’ve been set into. To leave your home would be to call the bluff on the cruelty of tyrants — and see your eggs cracked for omelettes, your children tossed to the wilds and a feast for umber hulks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” said Adalon, her voice weak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To stave off your wrath, they have provoked it beyond imagining. Tis an impressive risk they are willing to take.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must retrieve them.” Adalon lowered herself. Her eyes were taller than any of them. Bright yellow, they blinked and shed a tear. “Return my eggs and I will transport you to the surface, near a city where Irenicus plots his next move. In addition, I will let you choose a gift from my hoard. Anything you desire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it you think we can do?” asked Viconia. She had fallen back to the darkness’s edge, voice shaking. “You ask us five to march against a drow city. Svirfneblin are pitiful and pathetic, but numerous — and devoted. They would make you a finer army.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know well the danger of drow,” said Adalon calmly. “No, I would not ask for a simple assault. I ask for subtlety.” Her eyes roamed them each in turn. “I ask for you to join a city of the drow. I ask this from an assassin who knows her people best, from a Red Wizard, from an actor of the planes, a murderer, and a shattered soul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all are murderers,” said Thalia, staring coldly into the eye nearest. “That is unfair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The truth is always unfair,” said Adalon. She rose back to her full height. “Ust Natha expects an arrival of a team from Ched Nasad. This team is dead, their equipment waiting for you. I will gift you four with drowish visage and tongue. They will not see past the fiction I create, immune to magic detecting thoughts, lies, and truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is impossible,” said Viconia. She pulled herself fully into the room. “Only I among them know the ways of the drow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adalon’s face twisted into a smile. “Improvise. Turmoil of war grips them and they will overlook much. Extra hands are required.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Khal-abbil, this is madness,” whispered Viconia urgently. She grabbed Thalia’s arm. “The drow </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> slaughter you. There is no way we all can keep up such a guise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You five shall enter Ust Natha and find my eggs,” said Adalon. “In turn, you shall return to the Sunabove, with knowledge of Irenicus and a token from my horde. It is more than fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fair</span>
  </em>
  <span> only means the deal is yet unfinished or misunderstood,” said Edwin. He glanced to Thalia. “I suspect, for once, our foul-tempered elf has a better grasp of our situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia grimaced, but turned to Anomen. He shrunk back, head bowed, and she knew he thought well on what Adalon had said of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anomen,” she said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must find your sister’s killer — and extract what you must,” he said with a sigh. “I will follow you and do my best with the ruse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We haven’t agreed to do it,” said Viconia sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen smiled without humour. “We will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The acting opportunity of a lifetime,” said Haer’Dalis with savour. “This—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is a difference between a cavalier life and suicidal recklessness — especially with others’ lives, bard,” spat Edwin. “You would do well to learn it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t want to do it, wait here, then,” said Thalia coolly. “This will be dangerous and I won’t have you be a liability.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin recoiled as though she had slapped him. “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>liability?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Of us all, I am the most prepared for this sort of nonsense.” He sneered. “A den of vipers or a den of spiders. Yes, this overgrown reptile might read minds. The Red Wizard Academy was no glass of Everaskan red. Eight initiates survive each year, but one of each school of magic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful to know the drow did not invent such an education,” said Viconia sarcastically. “You’ll feel right at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let the casting begin, then,” said Adalon in a low, monotonous drone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, wait!” began Edwin, but it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The magic was ice cold — and no illusion. Much like the Slayer, Thalia felt her bones creak and readjust as they found new shapes. Shorter, more slender. Armored as she was, the transformation was most obvious on the others. Hair fading to ice white, skin to a purple-black, with eyes a bright red. Enough of their features and builds left them recognisable, but only just. Harder, crueler, beautiful in that elvish way. By the shock on their faces, Thalia knew she, too, had changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shrunk out of her armor and struggled to get it off. “You said you had equipment from the patrol you killed?” she asked… or thought she asked. Her tongue formed words and sounds. The meaning was clear to her, but the shape of her lips and motion of her throat was different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adalon nodded. A new set of braziers flashed and a darker passageway glowed. The dragon’s treasure hoard. It was not quite the spilling ocean of a million gold coins, but something more impressive. A museum, each piece notated and kept spotless in its place. Paintings and artwork, jewel-encrusted cups, a thousand swords and flails and axes, suits of armor. And two dozen dead drow — levitating and preserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia and Anomen dragged them to the ground and began to strip them. Between them all, surely, they would have enough equipment to suit up again. Drowcraft armor and weapons was a myth. Jet black adamantine, tingling with half-invisible purple sparks. Scale plate and mail, along with cloaks of silvery black. Spider motifs featured heavily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… my trusted friend, you will need a name,” said Viconia haltingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you call me?” said Thalia, shocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia grimaced. “Friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Abbil</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Thalia heard it through the spell’s translation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Khal-abbil</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her hands slipped from the cloak’s fastening. Viconia pinned the cloak back on her, fingers lingering on the broach. They were of a height, eye-level now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are of House Melarn, to be said,” said Viconia deeply. “A band, sent and expected, likely as an informal treatise. As the females, we lead it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is it.” Viconia turned over the pin and nodded. “Veldrin. It is a very common name, but not too common, easy to remember.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Veldrin</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Of the shadows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia glanced over the men. “Males do not speak unless spoken to first. Even then, only with supreme respect for those favoured of Lolth. Keep your names unspoken and you need not slip up or misremember.” She inspected the pins of the remaining cloaks and assigned them. “Hallis. Arathis. Eizan. Do you understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll have to leave our things with the dragon’s horde,” said Anomen, looking longingly at Candor and a drowcraft longsword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you whine, or slip up, or speak out of turn, and remain whole and unpunished by your female leaders,” said Viconia darkly, “we will be discovered. Death will be a kindness none of us shall receive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drowish wizards are some of the most feared arcanists across the realms,” argued Edwin. “Surely </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>station—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has been some time, but know I will still take pleasure in spilling your blood across Lolth’s altar.” She smiled. “This is not your world, male. Follow us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adalon settled down into a new slumber and, as they left, the braziers thrust the cavern into darkness again. Thalia pocketed the guidestone, feeling her longer fingers as unnatural. The drow band had had well-stocked packs for the journey. Even with the illusion, the temptation to throw back into the wilds was heady. Supplied and better armed, there might’ve been escape. Perhaps on the githyanki’s spelljammer, though not looking like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hand trailing the walls, Viconia led them without fault to the entrance. Abruptly, the rock ceased to be the dull curve of natural terrain. It smoothed like glass, all sharp edges. A master carver had gone over the canvas with dozens of scenes. Spider mosaics, sacrifices, demons, and war murals. The written language took longer than the spoken to translate meaning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Here lie the First City, where Lolth’s Chosen sought refuge to gain strength and marshal power. Once, we shall return to the Lands Above with spider and sword.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is there?” shouted a male voice. “Identify yourselves!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stand strong, Veldrin,” warned Viconia. “Drow cower before no one, least of all our own. Yours is the power. Lolth is female and favours thus. Act accordingly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guards of the city had heard their approach and, as they turned a corner, Thalia almost walked into the crossbow aimed at her forehead. A drow, garbed in heavy ceremonial armor. A spider wrought in crystal crawled over his chestpiece.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speak your purpose!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stand down, male… worm,” said Thalia threateningly. “I am Veldrin of House Melarn from Ched Nasad. Let me pass!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something broke in the guard’s eyes. He lowered the crossbow, as did his fellows. “Yes, my apologies, mistress. I merely follow my duty and orders of the matron mothers. You are welcome to pass, Veldrin Melarn.” He turned to the other guards and the command passed up to open the doors. “We expected you two turns ago, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a long journey,” said Viconia darkly. “We were belaid by eye tyrants — and I will not tolerate more questioning of a male, not even of House Despana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, mistress.” The guard bowed at once. “Beg your pardons. Solaufein awaits your counsel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell him he may find us once we have settled and paid our respects,” said Viconia, without missing a beat. “And washed the stink of the wilds away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quarters have been set aside at the Five Masks, paid by House Noquar to my knowledge.” The guard provided directions to the inn, just as the doors creaked open. He saluted, hand on his heart, as they passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who in the hells is Solaufein?” hissed Thalia out of the corner of her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How should I know?” snapped Viconia. “Worry more about House Noquar, if we’ve been </span>
  <em>
    <span>hired</span>
  </em>
  <span> by them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know the house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Houses rise and fall,” she said errantly. “My own house is such a failing. Let us find this inn and make it known we’ve made a sacrifice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia glanced to the three men who still followed them. “Which one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia smiled wryly. “Much as I might wish, no. Coin alone. A drop of blood if we feel frisky, to thank Mother Lolth for sparring us against those eye tyrants what devoured the rest of our band.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entrance tunnel opened and nothing could’ve prepared Thalia for its splendor. Every rough edge had been smoothed or sharpened, until it was a city of black glass. Buildings hung from above, dripping icicles, as thick cobwebs glittered like fresh snow. Glittery faerie fire outlined buildings or signs in purple, blue, and white, painting the dark cavern with a dim glow of jewels. Noble manors covered in carvings and spider gargoyles suspended on higher levels. The main streets hung over a dark pit. Far below, farmers and slaves toiled over the food supply. Spiders the size of dogs scurried behind drow mistresses, alongside brow-beaten slaves. Svirfneblin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to Ust Natha,” said Viconia thinly. “Home, at last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The main street felt familiar, at least. As far as cities went, anyway. Cramped shops and apartments competing for space. Beggars in tatters. Wild urban creatures competing — though, bats, wingfish, and spiders mostly. Street food and open stalls, even if Thalia couldn’t have recognised half of what was sold. At least the packs they had stolen from Adalon’s lair had some strange drowish coins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A drow male set up his own stall of potions, carefully aligning the bottles on display. From a cart, a dwarf slave tipped down another crate. He stumbled under the weight. There was the unmistakable tinkle of broken glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drow snarled. “That’s valuable merchandise!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m sorry, master,” whimpered the dwarf. “Please, I’m so… so weak, if I could just—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is the last time you’ve cost me favour. No more! You’ve outlived your limited usefulness.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drow struck out a hand and a spell pierced the dwarf, killing it with a wretched smell of acid. He fell backward, into the street. Viconia stepped deftly over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” demanded a female voice. Another drow, far older than the male, stalked across the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The male blanched. “Pardon, mistress. The slave grew arrogant and needed to be punished, I only—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understand this, blubbering fool,” she said coldly. “You are easier to replace than a trained slave. You’ve run too many into the dirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But — mistress, please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have another son. And I can always make more.” She stepped forward once more and, though he must’ve seen the blade coming, he submitted to it. New slaves scurried forward from the stall she had first come from. They dragged away the bodies. She caught sight of Thalia’s stare, eyes seeking. “Ah, you must be the band from Ched Nasad,” she said, satisfied. “Mercenaries need always potions, don’t they? Healing? Strength? A new poison for your bolt? This is a particularly devilish one my alchemists are crafting now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia could only stare, until Viconia realised she had left them behind. She entertained the drow female a few minutes before purchasing the new poison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not gape,” said Viconia dangerously. “This is our way. Way of the drow. Way of Lolth. Strong dominate, growing stronger. Weak surrender, leaving only the strong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia kept her feelings on that to herself. Her emotion was not moral horror or even fear, but surprise. She hadn’t thought the drow would be so cruel to their own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A plaza of what the drow might call gardens opened up. A fountain of a spider, a little patch of dirt with crystals and mushrooms. And a mindflayer. Three of them conversed with a pair of drow females and an armed guard. Even Viconia lingered, watchful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, I hear you,” said one of the drow. “Your thoughts are clear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mindflayer did not make noise, but Thalia could feel the psionic communication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You remain unwelcome in most parts of our city,” said the other drow. She sighed. “Yes, no, we understand you are an ambassador—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slave rebellions are the mark of weak rulership and have brought more than one city to ash,” said the first cruelly. “Perhaps your brains can remember </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The mindflayers looked at each other and folded hands, appearing to submit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may seek refuge, so long as you serve House Despana in all thought and deed,” declared the first drow. “Consider yourselves warned and fortunate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mindflayers made an odd gesture that might’ve been one of respect, before drifting down the path to another street. The drow whispered to each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems a mindflayer colony has fallen to a slave rebellion, mistress,” said Haer’Dalis mildly. “Danger abounds and…” His eyes widened as he gazed past them. “Oh my.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia followed his sight to a ship. It was moored on an upper level, bearing sails and rigging and a hull, like other ships. Yet, it floated on thin air. It looked to have been on the losing end of a battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A spelljammer?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis nodded. “A beautiful Astral vessel. Might we get a closer look?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another time, male,” said Viconia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crossed the street to a large set of doors bearing an ornate detail of five masks in black faerie fire. Thankfully, Haer’Dalis understood a silent order. He rushed to open the door for them, letting it slam on Edwin as they passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much like the city itself, the Five Masks most certainly was an inn. Not the Copper Coronet, or Feldepost’s, but luxurious — even to someone who knew nothing of drow tastes. Carvings across the walls had been painted in gold, including a particular one of five masked drow warriors. Red crystals and gemstones had been cut to a thousand faucets. Their dim light turned like waves in the ceiling. Each marble table was robed in glistening spidersilk. The bar was of true ebony wood and, behind, a hundred pristine bottles waited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the finery, Viconia marched up to the bar, Thalia not far behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Male, we have quarters awaiting us,” said Viconia, sounding bored. “Send a hot meal and spiced bath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The innkeeper looked perplexed for a moment, before he caught the pin. “Ah, yes, of course.” He scoured for keys under the bar. “We’ve saved rooms enough for five females,” he said uncertainly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give us them all,” said Thalia. “After what the wilds have put us through, they shall a night of fine rest. Solaufein will be trial enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sure life among the Bregan D’aerthe is never dull,” said the innkeeper modestly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Feathered Hat.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s eyes sharpened as she took the keys. She tossed a few silver coins on the bar. “Two bottles of dew — no less than thirty years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia hastily followed Viconia as they found their rooms. Just as luxurious as the room downstairs, she slammed the door as soon as they entered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are the Bregan D’aerthe?” asked Thalia, bewildered. “Is this bad news?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia ripped the cork from the first bottle and filled a glass, shaking her head. “Mercenaries, based in Menzoberranzan and Ched Nasad, under a powerful houseless male named Jarlaxle. Highly sought after. Highly expensive. Useful meddlers in politics and affairs they’ve no right to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin snorted. “Wonderful. That dragon managed to turn us all into Harpers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish we had but one more female,” said Viconia, grimacing. She drank. “We are in danger of being caught in a crossfire of a housewar. I would search for these dragon eggs, if only I knew you could lean on another for—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A polite knock echoed. Thalia opened, hand on the stolen drowcraft sword, but it was only a servant. A copper bath, full and steaming, drifted behind him magically as he pushed a cart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Males knock here, Eizan,” said Viconia dryly. “Learn the skill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin scowled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The male servant unloaded his cart. He held the silver platter, every muscle tensed. “Pardon me, mistresses. Would you rather eat here with your males? I’ve set places for each room, so far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead,” said Thalia, waving a hand. “We’re almost done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The male worked quickly and efficiently, before fleeing their presence at a brisk pace. Viconia picked at the offerings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of us has to deal with Solaufein,” she said grimly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve been hired for a task,” said Anomen, swallowing heavily. “Mercenaries. Simple enough, I can stall the patron for more time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia barked a cold laugh. “Stupid. Charming, but stupid. No, a female must. Representing a noble house as he is, he would be offended to deal with another male representing a lowly mercenary guild.” She sat at the table setting and started at the soup. “It is said males have only power whilst in wizard robes — or out of them. And, unless this Solaufein prefers the company of fellow males — rather more common here than Above — it would only invoke his anger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen looked to Thalia sincerely with eerie crimson eyes set in the ghost of Anomen’s face. “I am not complaining, not in the slightest. I agreed to come here. I will see this through. I will play my part the best I can.” He turned back to Viconia. “But your homeland is </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrific.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed.” She blew on the soup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not be so limited, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arathis,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> said Edwin pointedly. “This is a rare and poignant opportunity. Drow are renown, even amongst elves, for the mastery of their trades. Do you not even slightly desire a chance to train with a weapons master who has spent all his centuries at war, honing his skills?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anomen winced and hesitated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not mask your greed as charity, idiot,” said Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so what if I wish to glean secrets of drowish magic?” snapped Edwin. “What crime is that, to harness what powers may bend like supple twigs to my mastery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia smirked. “Do you truly wish to know of drowish magic? We all as children are trained in its skill. The depravities and the dark lusty allure of its touch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” He slammed a fist upon the table and leaned forward. The fine black dishes shuddered. “Tell me, woman!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are but a pawn in this world and need know nothing,” she said softly. “I think I will leave you gasping a little longer. Your seemingly broken jaw amuses me to no end.” She gestured with her spoon. “Go take your own suppers. Acquaint yourself with drow cuisine before you must eat in public.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not what Thalia had imagined. By the little card menu what came with the meal, she at least had names to put to some things. Noodles of mushroom flour, bouncy and spicy. Stuffed mollusks and wingfish tips, crusted in lichen and fried. A rich mushroom broth with poached eggs, though the eggs were impossibly small and Thalia wondered what sort of creature laid them. Still. Yellow yolk. Earthy mushrooms. Fish-ish. Noodles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bit into a candied fruit, not expecting the powerful spice, and choked. She struggled to get down enough dew to quench the flames.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veldrin had eaten this stuff all her life. This was even a fancy dinner, prepared in a high-class inn. She concentrated and found some nuance in the complex flavours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the richness of a drink and a bath, she slept better in the luxurious feather bed than she had in years. A deep dreamless sleep left her rested and content. The mirror startled her. A drow stared back at her, wearing just enough of her features to be recognisable. Dressed in rich enchantments, a cloak pinned with her house symbol, and soft leather and spidersilk clinging to her lithe form, Thalia had never felt less like herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps that was a good thing, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand knocked at her door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In,” she said coldly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only Viconia. Suddenly, Thalia felt quite foolish and winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wear no emotion on your face you would not give an enemy,” said Viconia. “We will surely have a long wretched day ahead. More than the others, our survival will be determined by you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you hadn’t wanted it, you should’ve asked that lizard to turn you into a male as well,” said Viconia sharply. “As of now, we both lead this little band, and it is us others will look to. You will not be able to grunt and glower silently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take away all my talents, why don’t you,” she muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Solaufein left a message with the innkeep, that he will meet us here at dawning green.” At Thalia’s blank look, Viconia sighed. “Time-keeping is the Underdark is particular to the city. I know, Ched Nasad used a magical spell, able to be seen by all as it ran out — as did Menzoboranzan. Ust Natha keeps time by the turns of glowing mushroom caps in the fields below.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stared hopelessly. “Why not use a clock?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And rely on the Sunabove and its tyranny?” snapped Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright. What are we to do today, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia folded her hands, knuckles tense. It was a bit of a shock to see her in drowcraft clothes, with adamantine weapons. The crafted dress and vest, all sharp corners and edges, its silver embroidery spidery. It didn’t suit her at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve paid respects on our behalf at Mother Lolth’s temple,” said Viconia. “Purchased a slave to sacrifice in joy of our survival.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia withheld her wince. “Good. I’m sorry I missed it. Mother Lolth deserves all our praise and glory. I do so love… killing slaves for the Spider Queen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled. “A little much, but good spirit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m exhausted already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia leaned on the door. “We’ll leave the males here. With the luck that finds you, I’m sure they would be sold, stolen, or otherwise molested on their own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, where are we going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will look for Adalon’s children,” she said determinedly. “Speak to no one. You are a mercenary in the employ of House Noquar, getting your bearings in a strange city before your work begins. You search south of the temple, I north. Cover the city by dawning green.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reconnaissance. Thalia breathed a small sigh of relief. This was something she could do. Poke around until she found something that looked like dragon eggs. The armor felt wrong, but it was steel of a sort, and she had a sword and dagger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before they left the sanctuary of the private rooms, Viconia grasped her hand. “Be careful, my dear friend,” she said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors opened, the moment passed, and they set out on their separate ways. The streets, like any city, proved a dense maze of twists and shacks. And drow. Now, in their masses, Thalia could see Adalon had let them mostly keep their own builds. Anomen still was rather tall and bulky, Haer’Dalis almost as tall, Edwin wirey. Among the drow, though, males were distinctly shorter and more slender. Delicate, even. For the first time Thalia could remember, she did not feel out of place among women with her thicker build and strong arm. It helped with the unnatural arrogance she had to project.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia poked her head into shops, dispersing conversation with glares as she evaluated the wares. The language spell wasn’t complete. Breeds of fungi and other items had no good translation. Around her, shoppers and workers gossiped and complained of their daily lives. Truly, thinking creatures were all the same. Races of men, elves, and dwarves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These tariffs, I don’t know how House Flalin expects smiths to purchase raw adamantine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you heard? The houses are marshalling forces again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These bluebutton caps are dreadfully bruised. Have you any others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Praise the Mother, Jaen has cast her first </span>
  <em>
    <span>darkness</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Yes, yes, four is very young! She is touched by Lolth, I know. Oh, they grow so fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only vegetable was mushrooms and the free-roaming spiders would take some getting used to, but people were people. Even drow. Perpetual clouds of mistrust and even paranoia hung low, but it was no different than what Thalia herself felt on the surface. Any stranger could be a threat. At least here, it was openly acknowledged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia paid a street vendor a coin for a repulsive crunchy snack. It was just crunchy. Sweet, spicy, deeply savoury. Only crunchy. She tried not to think of the little legs and thoraxes. So long as she didn’t, it was even tasty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No dragon eggs. Though, she hadn’t expected them out in the streets. If they had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>stolen</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they would be in the hands of a noble house or… a bank or wizard tower. Thalia looked up to the manors above. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most powerful of drow, forgive my insolence in speaking before being told, but I must gain your attention a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Thalia a minute to realise the voice came from a prostated dwarf at her feet. Even broad-boned, he was painfully skinny, his hair and beard patchy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia threw her food wrapper aside. “Make your case quickly, slave. I have no patience this day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would not dream of bothering you with my own petty concerns, o great drow,” he said reverently. “No, it is my master you must hear, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will speak with Solaufein at the designated time. No sooner. Leave me be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” burst the dwarf. “Please, I beg you. My master has no name, I know not this Solaufein.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A cold feeling wrote down Thalia’s spine. Who else would’ve sought her out? She hesitated, glancing over the endless parade of grey faces and white hair. Viconia was half a city away. She couldn’t afford to look weak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well,” said Thalia. She tried, not very successfully, to sound bored. “Take me to your master.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grey dwarf showered her with nonsense praise and scampered through the streets. She followed close behind. He led her further down into the slave markets. Open cages and chains, though they didn’t elicit the same pity and empathic pain they had before. Small mercies for soullessness. Gnomes and dwarves were most plentiful, sold alongside beasts of burden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dwarf stopped in front of a vast tank on wheels. Other slaves tended it. A bizarre pallid eel turned about his confines, tail slapping the glass. The mouth filled with serrated teeth, like a cloaker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come close and he will speak into your mind, it is the way of his kind,” said the dwarf with another bow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Struck by curiosity, Thalia stepped forward. “Greetings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hear me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a small cold breeze against the touch of her mind. Far less pleasant than Adalon, more kin to mindflayers than anything. Thalia set her teeth against it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hear my thoughts… I am visitor to this city, but I’ve a service I demand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What manner of creature are you?” she asked. “My sword is already spoken and paid for, I must say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The eel turned its sightless face toward her. “Your sword speaks for yourself… </span>
  <em>
    <span>surfacer</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What you are is printed on a transparent mind. Dragonkin are children before the aboleths.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s mouth ran dry. As far as she could tell, the other drow appraising slaves had no inkling what the aboleth had said. “What do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will do what I say or your identity will appear in the mind of every drow—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I got that,” she snapped. “The threat is obvious enough. What do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aboleth did not laugh, but the feeling of a smirk, the amused superiority curdled in her mind. “I command a deed of violence. I call for a death, Child of Murder. Simple, brutal, and effective, and more suited to you than my petty servants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Petty servants. A half dozen slaves used in place of horses to draw the tank. None armed, most looked underfed. A few secreted a strange slime, like what glistened on the aboleth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’ve full access to my mind,” said Thalia coldly, “what in this gods-forgotten city compels you to think I would be motivated by a threat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aboleth paused in its twirling swim. “You require safe passage,” it said, confused. “Skilled you are, you cannot hope to fight off a city of drow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only need kill you.” She sneered and cast an eye over the slaves. “Who could stop me? Who would raise a hand to defend you, fish?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“FISH?”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  The word lanced an icicle in her brain. “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfectly. I care nothing for my life, but any creature arrogant enough to think itself above dragons must value its own life dearly. Go on.” She smiled. “Take another look in my mind. Call my bluff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aboleth’s long tail and fins twitched with a growling snarl. Thalia knew what it found. A shattered soul, directionless. It found allies and the memory of love — but no concern, no compassion. No fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Away from me, surfacer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Content with the stalemate, Thalia turned and left the slave traders and aboleth behind. Near disaster. She couldn’t afford to let any suspect she was anything but drow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The streets began to clear, almost suddenly, as people darted into inns or homes. Thalia searched for answers and found the light from below dim further. The mushroom fields below were fading from blue. The sudden darkness must signal lunch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To not be caught alone or suspicious, Thalia returned to the Five Masks. Along with half of Ust Natha, it felt like. Females lounged or caroused at the bar. Most bore armor and weapons, though they relaxed marginally. Servants rushed with overflowing platters of food and drink. Lonesome males seized up their chances. Conversation grew in waves, but there was no laughter and little joy. Small mocking trills or sardonic chuckles. Arguments. Posturing. Thalia was well reminded of a flock of chickens arranging their pecking order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia was pleasantly relieved to spot Viconia and took the table with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apologies,” said Viconia stiffly. “I forgot to set a meeting for lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Common, then, is this?” she asked in a low voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All but universal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia swallowed that. Of course, she knew that. She was just miffed Viconia hadn’t arranged a location to eat at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia called sharply for a serving male and placed an order. Several males attended other females or took solace in their own sex’s company. Her eyes turned over one several times before she recognised the snow white braids. He bowed low to the female and found their table. It was Haer’Dalis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might you honour me with your presence, mistress?” he asked demurely. Gone were the delicate scars, the silvery eyes, the quiet confidence. His shoulders turned inwards, hands folded in supplication. Damn actor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia struggled to withhold her laughter. Viconia didn’t address him but asked him to sit with a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjoying yourself, are you?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never before have I performed for an audience filled with such dark secrets and vigilant eyes,” he said brightly. “You must embody the spirit and soul of this illusion, Veldrin, lest we all are doomed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doom, again.” She smiled. “Comforting as always, Haer—Hallis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her almost slip drew Viconia’s glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis’ crimson eyes widened. “Then allow me the honour of adding to your worries. There is more to the act than simply living as kin among noble drow. We cannot appear weak, foolish, compassionate. Curtains will draw. Show over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No pressure, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis sighed, pained. “I mention this only because I fear you may grow impatient as time passes within these false faces. Certainly, tug at the reins holding us back, but a delicacy is required if we are to pursue your soul’s thief. You must not be drow alone, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> Veldrin. Who is she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia was about to lean back and put her boots on the table, if only to mark the spidersilk cloths. Then, she noted no other females did. They had the same unearthly poise and disdainful stature Viconia had. Thalia mimicked it, and not well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When Solaufein makes smalltalk, what will you say?” asked Viconia calmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… am of Ched Nasad,” said Thalia slowly. “A commoner who the low noble, Viconia, found useful for unsavoury tasks she could not entrust to a male.” She strained her mind, thinking. “I took to the sword because, as one of few female warriors, it was a clean path to power amongst the dominant males in the profession. Jar… what was his name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jarlaxle, mistress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jarlaxle recruited me when I insisted, by my need to see more of the Underdark — how our people lived, changing customs. Hardened by the wilds, but enamored by the bustle of a city. Far from home.” She sighed. “I got nothing more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s adequate,” sniffed Viconia. “Say less, let their minds fill in the blanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis clapped politely, just as a servant brought a small basket of bread and cups of dew. The bread was an unmistakable navy blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great service,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drow deserve only the best,” said Haer’Dalis evenly. His long grey fingers pulled apart a roll, exposing the rich filling. “What virtue is in denial of what we have earned?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the glossy stone, she studied the reflection. The smallest hint of her crooked nose, the elegant piercing cheekbones more rounded. It was not her face, but Veldrin’s. Dainty white scars left by daggers or rapiers wrote across obsidian skin. It was a lived-in face. Arrogant, commanding, bold, beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You surely could have made a fine career on the stage, mistress,” said Haer’Dalis lightly. “Your poise, striking beauty, skill of subtlety. Viconia, these are gifts honed by time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No doubt, my smooth-tongued bard,” said Viconia with a small, pleased smile. “Yet I chose to put my talents to greater purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffed. “What greater purpose could there be? Tis truly noble to court the approval of the audience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drow have no use for the theatre,” she said. “We act and dissemble to advance our station. Unconvining performance ends not with boos, but — as you succinctly put it — doom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis choked on the roll. “No use for theatre?” He groaned, hand on his chest. “Excuse this wounded sparrow’s flight, mistress. I must retreat beneath the onslaught of pain such a harsh and unimaginable world brings to my heart. Tis truly a dark place to which we have come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stealing another roll, he vanished up the stairs. Probably for the best. Thalia had not yet forgotten Viconia’s warning about unaccompanied males.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Needless to say, neither of us have found our quarry,” said Thalia dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Needless to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The servant brought a dizzying assortment of plates and bowls. Thalia’s eyes bulged, but Veldrin reigned them in. Much of it couldn’t be easily recognised as food. Dumplings, sure. Broth, alright. But did </span>
  <em>
    <span>food</span>
  </em>
  <span> glow with pulsing bioluminescence? Cheese was not supposed to have a grey tint, was it? Why were those tiny eggs inky black?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bread, soup, sour, sweet, starch, meat, dessert,” muttered Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia was having nauseating flashbacks to formal meals at the duchal palace in Baldur’s Gate. “At least there’s only one fork.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia must’ve remembered the same. She almost smiled. “We aren’t dining with matron mothers. You can eat with your fingers, peasant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia considered herself lucky she had Viconia to make obvious comments, answering her unworded questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite rich. I cannot remember when last we had such skillfully prepared empowered eggs… That bitter toxin tingle, balanced perfectly with the crust of sugar crisp… Velvet myconid ears, so fresh you could read by their light.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” said Thalia sincerely as the meal wore on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia sneered. “For what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She set her cutlery down and thought a moment. “For taking the time to share your thoughts on lunch, mistress. I am still quite unfamiliar with lifestyles and luxuries of nobles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, Veldrin.” She smiled. “Don’t refer to other females as </span>
  <em>
    <span>mistress</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Lowers yourself to a male’s subservience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A group of males grew unseasonably rowdy, drawing the sharp glare of nearby females. Drink flowed and their stories grew louder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on, Merinid,” said one. “Tell him about the throne!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright.” Merinid resettled and drew himself up. “Tale begins only turns after the Descent. A time when we brought weak vegetation to build houses with in the caverns. Twigs and grasses. The first matriarch had the grandest house, as she led hordes of drow and helped us thrive in hostile lands. Powerful, potent, cunning. A great boon to her people, who admired her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a drink. Some of his fellows who knew the story started to chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To honour her, the greatest warriors set upon the shark-fiends and stole a stone throne of the king. A secret present and trophy for the matriarch. They stowed in the rafters of her great hall. As she arrived at the ceremony, the warriors went to retrieve the throne, but — </span>
  <em>
    <span>crash!</span>
  </em>
  <span> The weight fell through and crushed the matriarch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The males burst into heady, drunken laughter. All but Merinid, who remained somber, even as a flush of humour crawled up his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A sad, sad tale of our early days,” he said mournfully. “It holds a moral, though.” He paused, then broke into a grin. “Don’t stow thrones in grass houses!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This only brought a new round of donkey brays of laughter. The grating sound wore on Thalia and she knew she wasn’t the only one. A female nearer stood, scowling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imbecile!” she snapped. “How dare you tell such a moronic, slanderous lie about the history of our people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of the males sobered and winced at the sharpness of the accusation. Merinid didn’t seem any bothered. He raised his cup. “Greetings to you, too, Tathlyn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tathlyn’s scowl only deepened. “Lolth will sentence you to an eternity of poisoned agony for such madness!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spider Queen has no sense of humour,” he lamented. He drank deep. “Now, Vhaeraun, on the other hand…” His roguish smile turned sly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The males around realised that some line had been crossed by uttering the name. They silenced, many moving out of the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tathlyn blanched. She drew a sword from her belt. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I shall kill you in the name of the Mother of All Drow, fool!” Other females rose to aid, but she pushed them aside. “He’s mine alone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tath—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The name died in his throat, as Merinid found a quick and bloody death. The males scattered, only one remaining to clean Tathlyn’s sword off before bowing and fleeing, as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In time, Lolth’s rebellious son will be destroyed or return to her breast,” said Viconia softly to Thalia. “His worship draws irate and stupid males.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, does Vhaeraun have a weak soft heart?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said, amused. “But his twin sister, Eilistraee, does. She would betray us, have us live among darthiir, live on the surface among pathetic races and disgrace ourselves. Vhaeraun, at least, would have us rule over them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Such horrors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s eyes clung the Merinid’s corpse. A shot of fear in the eyes, just as red as the artistic splatter of blood. It was carted away by the innkeep. Another servant found a mop for the red. Little could be done about the rusty stain on the rug. A grim, grisly, and beautiful reminder.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Ust Velve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content: the first explicit (and uncomfortable) sexual encounter is at the end of this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>[Chapter 27: First Blade]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia found her way to the higher levels of noble manors easily enough. Veldrin encountered little opposition, even from slaves who knew she didn’t belong there. They didn’t dare offend, in case they paid for their ignorance. The commanding view over Ust Natha only showed how vast the city was. Thousands of drow. Perhaps many thousand. It hung over the black pit, though the mushroom fields below waved and glowed like an ocean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia leaned over the rail. A dim emerald. The colour changed slowly from blue to dark to green to dark. Day, noon, night, midnight. Creative way to keep time. By the time green reached its peak, it would be dinner time and this Solaufein would meet with them. Supposedly, they had been hired by his house. Drow Harpers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>These dragon eggs had to turn up somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps Solaufein had stuffed them down the front of his pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia turned from the overlook and found her way down to the street level. Viconia spoke quietly with Edwin in her room. Thalia feared a doom-filled pep talk when she entered, but the mood was too somber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Viconia was saying. She pensively traced the outline of the carvings in the tabletop. “I have oft considered returning to the Underdark, under a different name, a different identity. And, now, presented with the perfect opportunity… I find myself unwilling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These self-same people you’ve extolled virtues of, their might and power?” drawled Edwin, satisfied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Viconia. She welcomed Thalia with a nod. “I look upon these people, this place, and feel naught but contempt. I am no longer bound to their cursed religion, to Mother Lolth, to the ways of the drow. I am no longer a thoughtless wretch living my life in cowed subservience.” Still, there was no pleasure in her voice. “I am worth more than these slime could ever hope to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was never worthy of you,” said Edwin, gentler. “You fast outstripped these meekling butchers. You praise a people who held you down and farmed your body and soul for all it had to give. Memories sweeten with time, I know, but sometimes, the best thing the past can do for us is die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached a slow hand across the table and it curled under her hard eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what of you, Thayvian?” Viconia settled back, sneering.  “Are you planning a bonfire for those red robes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doubtful,” said Thalia. Her sudden voice made Edwin jump and he turned to glare. “Am I interrupting something or are the others coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fetch them, male,” said Viconia thoughtlessly. “Green is dawning and I won’t keep the Ust Velve del Noquar waiting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>First Blade of House Noquar</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin ground his teeth. “Alone there is no need to order—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is,” said Viconia sharply. “And do not pretend to know myself or my nature or what I might have suffered at the hands of my people. We have </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> in common. Begone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flushing and muttering darkly, Edwin swept from the room and slammed the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s trying,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia’s face curled in distaste. “How has a lack of soul made your judgement of trust even more blind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin returned with Anomen and Haer’Dalis. Anomen made no attempt to hide his fears or discomfort, all but trembling. Luckily for him, it meant he resembled most males Thalia had seen during the day. Haer’Dalis’ calm was almost eerie in comparison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before we meet with Solaufein, I wanted to say only one thing,” said Viconia crisply. “Shut up. Don’t speak. Keep quiet. For a group like this, a lesser male contact would speak with the female second — Veldrin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” snapped Thalia. Her blood chilled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll step in, if need be, but this will largely be your task. Everyone clear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis bowed, fist over his heart, as the guard had. After a moment’s hesitation, Anomen did the same. Edwin snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia rolled her eyes and, with great satisfaction, backhanded him. Edwin stumbled at the unexpected blow, staring open-mouthed. When he stammered his outrage, she slapped the other cheek. And he kept quiet, fuming and sullen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia tried to find Veldrin. Hadn’t she done this a thousand times before? Seen Jaheira do this? Meet with the Nashkel mayor, harried priests, guard commanders, distressed townsfolk. Anyone and everyone who needed a job done by a sword and her group. It was familiar — to both Veldrin and Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was still a touch early for dinner and the barroom hadn’t filled to burst. A few lingered, but only one male. He paced impatiently at the end of the bar. Thick white hair pulled back into a ponytail that fell down the back of his black and silver armor. Bastard swords hung at his belt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, then,” said Solaufein in a rich dry voice, “you are the mercenaries the house procured. As if I do not have enough to accomplish in a turn without suffering for the welfare of the weak and disloyal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thin opinion for a male warrior,” said Thalia coolly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lip curled. “Solaufein. First Blade and weapons master of House Noquar. I serve my house loyally, not myself. My sword belongs to my matron mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t mean it hasn’t also been sold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein crossed what distance remained. Something more terrible than indignation waited in his red eyes. “Do not think to challenge and insult me, female. You are a foreigner here, free by the grace of the matron mothers. That could change in a heartbeat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will remember my place, if you remember yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barked a laugh, and not a nice one. “Do you have a name, vagrant? Shall I only refer to you as the common female?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled. Despite his demeanor, she found herself liking him. It was a change from the constant aura of fear everyone exuded. “Call me what you wish. It obviously doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed again. “I like your spirit. It’ll serve you well, should you find it may be turned off. I’d name you Waela, but I am told you’re named Veldrin and your band’s semi-noble leader, Gilaen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Waela.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The idiot; easily led and lacking in common sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gilaen died in the journey,” said Thalia stiffly. “This is Viconia, a noble of House Melarn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein waved a hand. “It is no matter. Melarn has no sway in Ust Natha. So long as the finest warriors of the city ready for war, you will serve well regardless your names. Outsourcing to mercenaries.” He grimaced. “Lolth help us. Many wish to avail themselves of my skills. Do not waste my time by requiring herding like a flock of brain-addled rothe. Simply follow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irritating and insolent male,” growled Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein smirked. “Do you think yourself creative for the insult? Follow, Waela.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, Solaufein made an odd magical gesture and began to levitate. He soared straight up to the manors of the higher levels. Thalia groaned as she watched him. Viconia winced but followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An in-born skill of nobility,” she muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” said Thalia. The nearest staircase was several blocks away and, somehow, she thought it might be blasphemous to start scaling the spider-painted walls. “Wizard,” she commanded, as if they had had a plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin did not bow — she might’ve fainted if he ever called her </span>
  <em>
    <span>mistress</span>
  </em>
  <span> — but he cast a spell she recognised well. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dimensional door. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The portals shrieked with the sound of tearing steel; one, in front of them, a second on the street above. Lucky he had prepared it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stepped past him without a thanks, entering first. He muttered, scowling, but the others came and she stood before the other drow. Viconia wore a small, pleased smile. Solaufein quirked an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might be more intelligent than you look,” he said unwillingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I look very intelligent, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your time will be far less unpleasant if you continue to obey in a timely fashion. Come.” Solaufein turned down the street and Thalia rushed to keep up. “Imrae, favoured of Lolth and a house mother of Despana, has hired me. I know not yet what task.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about us,” said Thalia shortly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein smiled, but his eyes were cold and unblinking. “I won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped at a manor house and the broach holding his cloak glowed with faerie fire. The spiders of the iron gate peeled backwards and the gates swung open. The gardens were magnificently cared for. They sported every colour but green, among statues, crystals, twining vines, and mushrooms. The manor itself was a spear of black glass, mirrored in its shine. A slave manifested to open the doors and directed them to a parlour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As someone who knew little of drow culture, it amazed Thalia how much was recognisable. Luxury, decadence, wealth. Some things did not change. The overabundance of spiders and gemstones was alien, but the artistic tapestries spoke of hundreds of hours of labour for a frivolous decoration. One of thousands. Veldrin, of course, was enamored with greed. Jealousy. A commoner looking into the world of nobles, an interloper seeking a station that did not belong to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A female, attended by younger females who might’ve been daughters, swept into the room. Her spidersilk gown was so gossamer thin her purple-grey form was easily visible. A parade of necklaces flowed down the deep neckline. She wore the face of every other haughty noble Thalia had known. A casual arrogance, though drow made no secret to the cruelty within.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Subtly, a wave passed through them. Thalia glanced to Viconia, mimicking the reluctant bow. Haer’Dalis followed Solaufein in his kneeling supplication. Rather less gracefully, Anomen copied Haer’Dalis. With even more reluctance than Viconia, Edwin, too, dropped to his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imrae, House Mother of Despana and Handmaiden of Lolth,” cried one of the other females.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the First Blade and his new…” Imrae cocked her head. “Slaves, correct? I understand money changed hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mercenaries, mistress. Temporary slaves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia repressed her amusement. Even on the surface, it felt like that sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imrae’s ice blue eyes scoured them. “House Noquar must be falling on hard times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We retain the favour of Lolth, mistress,” said Solaufein deeply. “The opinions of all females lesser to the Great Mother are irrelevant to mine work. Especially since that may say something if House Despana must reach out to a… house fallen on hard times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Imrae’s daughters gasped. The other tensed, but Imrae made no move against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet Lolth still has not deemed you worthy of being called to marshal with the others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will join my brothers when the time is right and I am called. Not before. My talents are best used elsewhere for the glory of my house. This turn, your house as well.” Solaufein stood, causing Imrae to raise a cool eyebrow. “Tell me what needs be done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile curved her lush lips. “You suspected, I am sure, this had to do with Phaere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do what I must, when I must, and I do it well. Whether I am saving the First Daughter or a lost wingfish, my sword swings for Mother Lolth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It swings for House Despana today,” said Imrae. “I own you until I release you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein inclined his head. “As Lolth wills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The supplication only irked Imrae further. “Brain devourers captured Phaere as she scouted, three turns ago now. Devourers have run rogue since the little slave rebellion destroyed the colony. They grow bold. Her companions were made into meals, but they think to extort us for supplies or slay her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This shall not come to pass,” said Solaufein simply. “I will set an ambush near the ruins of their colony by second dark. I will not fail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Imrae’s smile widened. “Though, pass it along to House Noquar. Despana remains insulted by the presence of foreign mercenaries, rather than sparing loyal Ust Natha swords. Report to temple before you leave, male.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein folded his hands behind him, the fists clenching to white knuckles. “As you command, Handmaiden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imrae’s eyes turned to them. “The First Blade has a reputation. As unpleasant as the male is to deal with, I know what to expect of him. I know not of you. Know there are many exquisite horrors that may be found for you in the Demonweb Pits should you fail. And, if you decide to run, the driders will track you down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We would not turn a cowardly back in the face of failure, mother,” said Viconia coldly. “Driders need not come into it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” asked Imrae, disappointed. “Phaere would be most pleased to receive Solaufein as a gift on eight legs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As Lolth wills, Handmaiden,” said Solaufein in a flat, tight voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The small display of fear made Imrae preen. “Do not return without my niece,” she called as she retreated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slave ushered them out, while another directed Solaufein into a deeper part of the manor. The road of manor houses felt more imposing. The dark characters of those within stared down and Thalia wondered absently how many others were being beaten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia directed them to not wait for Solaufein. It was not proper, least of all to show concern for the male. Solaufein wanted to set his ambush by midnight. Perhaps Viconia knew they needed a few hours out of the sight of drow eyes. Even alone, in her room, to simply exist without the pretext of pretending, was a small gift. One Anomen obviously treasured. Him and Haer’Dalis sat in the corner, as though the rest of the world might leave them alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish we had time to teach you handsign,” said Viconia bitterly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin poured over his spellbook. When he rose a hand to turn a page, his fingers danced briefly in the air, as though drawing a magical symbol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you know it, male.” She stood and checked her blade the tenth time. “Lolth knows how you acquired knowledge of but half what you know — let alone drowish dialect </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> handsign.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is handsign?” asked Thalia, bored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A language used by drow on missions,” said Viconia. “Silent, as most races of the Underdark have exceptional hearing. Combined with darkvision, it’s a very complex language and uses the left hand, right saved for a weapon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia spent some time trying to teach them how to use their darkvision and a few more common signs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As mercenaries, we ought be fluent,” she said, pacing. “Especially the males.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once Solaufein sees us fight,” said Anomen thoughtfully, “won’t he know we weren’t trained by drow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. He will.” Viconia stopped, leaning against a wall with her eyes shut. “Any misstep, no matter how slight, will draw attention of the Spider Queen’s watchers. No doubt, they are already curious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red Wizards commune with drow, at times,” said Edwin unwillingly. “A trade in magical items and scrolls, if not the knowledge of their creation. Combat techniques, as well as cultural attributes, are exchanged. Could we not have accompanied such traders as mercenaries?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viconia began to relax as she thought. “Perhaps. Bregan D’aerthe are known as disreputable, taking jobs even amongst dwarves and gnomes.” She grimaced. “If you spot handsign I do not, male, engage with it and pass the meaning along. Ignoring it, more than anything, could give us away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin puffed up almost as large as Imrae, at being given such an essential task. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Refreshed, they left the Five Masks after Solaufein. And Anomen’s ignored question of how they would find him in the wilds was answered immediately. Darkvision. The world faded to cold spots of blacks and blues, warmer splotches of red and orange. Solaufein’s fading footsteps marked the black ground in purple. He had left the occasional handprint on the rock walls, a distant bluing orange.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even with darkvision to guide them, Thalia struggled to pick out Solaufein when the trail ended after an hour or two. With his cloak pulled up, his heat signature had vanished entirely. It gave her a startle when he dropped from higher rocks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” he snapped. “I was beginning to wonder how long I would have to remain waiting amongst these forsaken rocks before you deigned to show up.” He scowled. “Timing could not be better. I sense the devourers. They’re traveling by the Astral, but I’ve a Lolth-blessed stone that will pull them to us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein didn’t favour a side. Imrae had kept his face clear of wounds, but the beating lingered in a different coldness in his face. Not superior, not ironic. It was not the pain, but the humiliation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Must you stare at me, Veldrin?” he demanded. “A question? Make it quick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know our presence would offend the Handmaiden,” said Thalia quietly. “Sorry. I should’ve taken the punishment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein flinched backwards, brows drawn. “Sympathy, Veldrin? Destroy the devours. Rescue Phaere. This will please me more than an apology.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He inspected the stone he claimed could pull the mindflayers from the Astral Plane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve left oceans of the devours behind us in the wilds,” said Thalia. “We don’t fear them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein didn’t appear to have heard her. “I… appreciate… the thought behind your words. The Handmaiden enjoyed it… excessively.” He cleared his throat. “I know I can still perform after such things, but I would not wish to rely on strangers after receiving such a lash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My weapon is ever-sharp and my poison strong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The saying brought a thoughtful nod from him. “Next time, if you wish, I will offer you to the house mother. Prepare yourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia took hold of the strange drowcraft sword and dagger. Across them, she exchanged a look with Viconia. Later, Thalia knew, there would be curses given for her mistake but there seemed no harm done. Not yet, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin and Haer’Dalis were almost lazy as they prepared their spells. Viconia moved deftly out of Solaufein’s sight to cast her own. Shar’s must’ve looked rather different than Lolth’s. Between the shadowy fiends, protection enchantments, and cloaks of blackness, the startled mindflayers didn’t have a chance. Solaufein summoned them suddenly. Wrenched from the Astral, they staggered uncertainly around their strange contraption. With a drow female.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ambush went swimmingly. Almost too well. It was little challenge or fun, but perhaps she should’ve been grateful for the assured victory. Solaufein fought like a tyrant with two blades. Even against the dozen mindflayers, he scarcely needed them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Corpses piled up and, as Anomen ripped his sword through the last’s tentacles, the captive stood. Dainty but hardly demure, Thalia was fast realising Viconia was an oddity of drow with her delicate stature. Phaere was beautiful the way all drow were, like a poisonous flower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is well time my captors were defeated,” snapped Phaere. “Hmph. I was beginning to think House Despana had given up on me after all.” She stepped from the Astral vessel, hiking her tattered grey dress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein knelt and, as Anomen and Haer’Dalis finished with the mindflayer, they followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greetings, Phaere, First Daughter of Matron Adulace,” said Solaufein somberly. “I trust you are uninjured?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who…” A sneer and smile warred on her lips. “Sola? How this must </span>
  <em>
    <span>gall</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, risking your life and those of your company to save me. Dreadful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did as I was commanded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you did,” she said mildly, casting an eye over the butchered mindflayers. “As any male should. Done well enough, I suppose.” She frowned as she took a closer look at them. “They aren’t your swords. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Females </span>
  </em>
  <span>follow you, even. Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein stood. “This is—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sure she still has a tongue,” said Phaere, not taking her eyes off Thalia. “Am I correct? Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veldrin of Ched Nasad, if it please you.” Thalia spoke slowly as she struggled to remember their new names. “Viconia of House Melarn. The males are Hallis, Arathis, Eizan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile won out, curious, almost sparkling. “Foreigners? How intriguing. We will speak more, you and I, once we return to Ust Natha.” Phaere’s gaze and voice hardened as it settled on Solaufein again. “I did not bid you stand, male. Salvage this Astral vehicle. I shall return to the city on my own and inform the matron mother of your… successful service, Solaufein. You’ve proven useful, for once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein, who had hastily fallen to his knees, stood again. The look on Phaere’s face made Thalia’s heart skip a beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What!” he shouted. “You are going to return on your own? No! What if you should encounter danger once again? </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> am responsible for your well—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate your touching </span>
  <em>
    <span>concern</span>
  </em>
  <span> — for your own skin, I am sure,” she said, eyes flashing, “but I can handle myself. And it is my command. Do not think to tell the First Daughter </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Farewell, fool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping over the blood and corpses, Phaela turned into the wilds without so much as a dagger. The darkness consumed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If only we all could have her bravery,” said Thalia ironically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein struggled to fit his swords into their sheathes. “Blasted arrogant witch.” He hissed, sucking at his teeth. “May the Spider Queen bite at her black heart! I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re following her,” said Thalia. She gestured to the Astral contraption. “We’ll drag it to the city. Where should we drop it off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be so flippant,” he snapped. “Should she so much as stub her toe, I will not hesitate to let you endure the Handmaiden’s justice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where should we drop it off?” she asked flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He abandoned trying to sheathe his weapons and glared at her instead. “House Despana’s estate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will come with you, male,” drawled Viconia. “An arrogant female’s pride has been the ruin of many, and I will not leave our own well-being in the hands of a stranger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein grunted and tossed a handsign her way. One of the only ones Viconia had taught. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Veldrin</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Thalia’s name, a sign to indicate stealth and to keep to the shadows. The two of them all but vanished, even to darksight, camouflaging themselves in cold spots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her, the Astral vehicle looked very much like a raft with a table at the head, but made of metal. Haer’Dalis managed to trigger some magic charge and a map of pure light rose like a wall. Though, it didn’t look like a map of any lands Thalia knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tis unfortunate, but Lolth’s little pebble has grounded it,” he said with a sigh. “Shall never sail the planes again.” He traced his fingers along the tabletop. “Although perhaps… Aha!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The raft hovered a few inches off the ground. Lazily, it rotated until Haer’Dalis turned his hand. It stabilized and drifted forward with purpose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Convenient as that is,” droned Edwin, “let us not make ourselves more conspicuous than we already have been. First, sympathy from the soulless, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> some random drow male piloting an Astral boat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis scoffed and, with another motion, sped up. Anomen leapt on as it passed, laughing. It was nice to hear him laugh. Thalia managed a smile, especially when the boat turned around and paused for her. She gave Edwin a hand, prepared if Haer’Dalis shot off at speed, but he waited for Edwin to get on. Thalia settled at the back with Anomen. If she shut her eyes, she could feel his presence, blood in the air, his familiar breath. And she steadied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kept a stable and safe distance from Solaufein and Viconia. The soft breeze and leisurely pace actually let them admire the wilds. Out of the reach of most danger, the Underdark was beautiful. By darkvision or low-light vision, the endless caverns were clearly unnatural. A wild magic had carved them like lightning, leaving rocks sharp. Fungi grew on shelves nearest the darklake, lichen crawling further to a crack where water bled. A wingfish latched onto the wall and nibbled at the green before spreading gossamer fins and gliding away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Thalia felt it. What Viconia had only been able to call an ability to </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense stone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, an instinct for what lay within the rock. With great accuracy, she could judge the distance to Ust Natha, even to the svirfneblin settlement and ruined mindflayer colony. Gems. Mineral veins. A haze of primal power, the lightning that once carved the Underdark. A web, the mighty nexuses where thinking creatures had built their cities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lower us,” she told Haer’Dalis. “We’ll conjure some beast to drag it the rest. Leave no mark of what you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, mistress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia flinched. “I didn’t mean to give an order like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tis your right,” he said mildly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Horseshit,” she muttered, but he had nothing to say to that. Anomen seemed to understand her distaste for their new dynamic and put an arm on her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Astral raft lowered and they crawled off. Haer’Dalis wiped a hand over the table. The magic light vanished. Given a pointed glance, Edwin conjured a pair of large fiendish ogres, who pushed the heap of scrap metal. It made a horrid noise as it scraped on. The city guards bowed as they passed. Some abuse of air elementals was required to get it up the stairs to the noble district, but they managed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein looked almost impressed. He and Viconia waited near House Despana’s manor, a convenient distance and out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally,” said Solaufein dryly. “Bad enough I had to worry over Phaere’s safe return, I wasn’t about to start fretting over yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She returned safely, then?” asked Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sneered. “If she hadn’t, I would be a drider and hunting you down. Idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned and the manor gates opened for them and the Astral boat. The ogres vanished in a puff of noxious smoke, the boat off-kilter on the front grass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps I thought you were luring me in with false hope,” said Thalia, “so as I could not escape punishment myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sneer softened into something very nearly a smile. “Sell yourself shorter, Veldrin, and I might mistake you for a dreugar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dwarves make the finest slaves,” drawled Viconia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia nodded her thanks. “I agree. We ought have brought… Whiskers with us.” At Solaufein’s wild look, she added, “His own name was impossible to remember and, issue is, the house had only… dreugar slaves and, so—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silence. You’re babbling again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Viconia.” Thalia swallowed thankfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein’s smirk broadened as the dwarven slave led them inside. It was the same formal pomp as before, something Thalia felt Solaufein thoroughly loathed. Still, the niceties of nobility were observed everywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apologies, Handmaiden, to disturb you before blue’s dawn,” said Solaufein gravely, “but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were eager for praise before you retired. Of course, I know my niece is safe.” Imrae sprawled across a seat. “Yes, you have served well,” she said, bored. “Pass my commendations onto House Noquar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bowed. “I thank you for the opportunity to serve one so favoured by Lolth. I am honoured, my house is grateful. Should you desire anything more—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“House Despana has not yet released you,” snapped Imrae. “Phaere wishes for your service. She awaits you and your new… company in the Five Masks.” Cold blue eyes glanced past Thalia to Viconia, but she still felt their chill. “She wishes to know these foreigners over a jar of deathsdew. Celebration for a battle won.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, Handmaiden—” he began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is it a female has not ripped that offending organ from your mouth yet?” Imrae stood and dismissed them with a hand. “Do not be so eager for punishment… Sola.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiff with the rebuke, Solaufein did not say another word until the Five Masks loomed before them. His hand clamped on the doorknob, but couldn’t seem to open it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would rather face another mindflayer, honestly,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “This will be a trial worse than any enemy that might be met with a sword,” he said darkly. “Do not reflect poorly upon me, Veldrin, else you might find out how cruel </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> can be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hear you.” She sighed. So much for sympathy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein ripped open the door. At the late hour, the barroom had emptied utterly aside from the innkeep and a single female at a large table. Phaere had washed and dressed anew since returning to Ust Natha. A sly smile found her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! So the mysterious Ched Nasans arrive at last to greet the female they rescued so valiantly from the clutches of filthy devourers.” She clicked her fingers and the innkeep brought more glasses and drinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” said Solaufein tensely, “I must have been invisible and immobile during that encounter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was speaking to… Veldrin,” said Phaere cooly. Her cheer waned. “Solaufein, when I speak to you at all, you will know it. Keep your bitterness silent or lose your tongue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein sat as far from Phaere as he could. “Creative threats. Not like I haven’t heard their ilk moments ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia waited for Viconia to sit, before taking her right hand place. Phaere’s eyes evaluated them each in turn and Thalia felt her heart sink as the noble drow female singled her out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ignore your emasculated commander’s outburst, Veldrin,” said Phaere slyly, earning a muttered curse from Solaufein. “Consider this a time for relaxation and enjoyment. Matron Mother Ardulace was pleased by your performance. Noquar’s First Blade is known to us, but she was delighted to find you such a powerful fighter as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon, but Viconia of House Melarn leads our group,” said Thalia. Her mouth couldn’t seem to moisten. A distant part of her treasured the fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see that.” Phaere poured them deathsdew and gave Thalia the first glass. “Commoners may always be adopted by a house. And, always, a new house awaits with open arms. Only the strong thrive. You could have your own slaves at your beck and call, rewards at your fingertips, the favour of Mother Lolth.” She smiled, wide and filled with pearly white teeth. “How does that sound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia drank and felt the social faux pas. Viconia hurriedly drank as well. Solaufein smirked and downed two glasses. Phaere only seemed more amused, thankfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like there’s a catch,” said Thalia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must earn it,” said Phaere simply. “Favour and comforts are not given out so freely. They are purchased with hard work and loyalty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, why don’t you go ahead and carve out her heart right now, Phaere?” said Solaufein with disgust. “You will get to that part eventually, won’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phaere flushed. “Silence! Not all drow forget that sometimes a reward is worth spending a part of yourself… or everything. It is a lesson you would do well to relearn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps if she will not learn it from me, Veldrin might from you,” said Viconia dryly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She will not be such a hopeless case,” said Phaere. She reclined in her seat, watching them with half-lidded eyes. “Solaufein is, I fear, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you will talk about me like I’m not here, I might as well make your dreams come true. Forgive me.” Rolling his eyes, Solaufein stood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are not forgiven,” said Phaere coldly. Her eyes glittered. “If you’re in such an eager mood to leave the table, you might put that insolent tongue to better use. I trust you remember where the lust chambers are, here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soluafein stared, struck dumb. “I — There—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phaere glanced, bored, to Thalia. “Veldrin, have him show you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> demanded Solaufein. He slammed his cup back on the table. “Were we too late? Have the devourers fed upon you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful,” said Phaere warningly. She crossed her legs, smile stretching wide as though hoping Solaufein would continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed his vitriol. “You surpass yourself, Phaere,” he whispered. “I would not have thought it possible you could find new talents at punishing me. I am their commander!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phaere caught Thalia’s eye. “Do not be offended. Enjoy yourself. He is a rather delicate male, but he does know his place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is quite something to say for such males,” said Viconia with a smile. “Hallis, attend me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, mistress.” Already, it sounded like a deep-set instinct in Haer’Dalis’ voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edwin stared, horrified, his eyes almost as wide as his gaping mouth. His grey skin took on a truly unhealthy colour. Thalia felt much the same. Her stomach dropped out of her. Her eyes darted. She didn’t know where to look to plead for help, and she found Viconia’s intense merciless stare. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Play along,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it seemed to say. She summoned herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Phaere,” she said humbly. “It has been a long journey from Ched Nasad without new company, but this promises to be the beginning of a beautiful partnership.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phaere smiled and Thalia began to relax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You play with fire, Phaere,” said Solaufein darkly. “My house will not stand for such a humiliation!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes shone. “Your house cares nothing for who you lay with. They care you obey. As do I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something cracked in his face. He smirked, but had long lost his amusement. He saluted, hand over heart, and bowed. “As you command, mistress. This way, Veldrin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia followed, Viconia and Haer’Dalis close behind. She struggled to make sense of things, of what was happening. Apparently, sexual decadence fed into the rest of drow hedonism. And, Haer’Dalis was the most skilled actor in the role. Edwin, even getting his dream come true, would’ve rebuffed. Anomen would’ve stammered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following, Thalia could hear Solaufein grind his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These are the lust chambers,” he said stiffly as they climbed the stairs. “First four doors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haer’Dalis opened the first door for Viconia. Thalia begged wordlessly for a piece of help, but Viconia stared hard and mouthed a pair of words in Common. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bed him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The lust chambers were tiny bedrooms. The bed was narrow but comfortable and the closet held dozens of clean fresh sheets, along with as many bottles as any bar. And an assortment of whips. Thalia was no longer thankful for the ability to feel fear. It churned in her guts like writhing snakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein refused to look at her as he undid his cloak. Lithe fingers worked on his armor fastenings. When he noticed she hadn’t made a move to undress herself, he said waspishly, “Am I to do that, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia locked the door and stiffened. The walls were thick, but very particular noises came from the chamber nextdoor. Viconia moaned, loud and dramatic. Too loud. Not that Thalia was particularly versed in the appropriate volume. And she understood. Viconia had taken Haer’Dalis so as to overshadow Thalia’s own reluctance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to,” she said honestly. “You’re… handsome, surely talented—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Desire is not a factor here,” he snapped. With a tiny clink, he slid out of the chainmail, leaving him in loose common clothes. “It is an order, for both of us! And I will obey. I will not have you invoke the ire of yet another of Lolth’s favoured.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem to know Phaere better than me. Could I have safely declined her oh-so-generous offer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein froze, midway through yanking his boots off. “What?” Disgust pulled his lip. “No. You couldn’t have, but it doesn’t matter. I cannot believe I must be put to such use, but we will obey. You’ve no more choice than I. Do what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want this over quickly,” she snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled his shirt off and grew rigid under her gaze. Drow, like all elves, were hairless below the eyebrows. Sleek and clear. A thousand fine white scars and burn marks marred the surface of otherwise polished obsidian. A statue of the ideal elven warrior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take no pleasure from humiliating the one I must follow into battle, under orders of a noble playing me,” said Thalia, but she knew her words were empty. Solaufein didn’t care what she felt or thought. His anger was at the third person in the room. The one forcing their hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take you pleasure quickly, then,” he demanded. “Don’t draw it out with massage or punishment — or complaints.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia stood, her fingers lingering on her swordbelt before she cast it aside. “Do what you must,” she said, resigned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed to draw from her own lack of desire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein did not strip her like a lover, but a squire. It was a job that had once been Jaheira’s, then Anomen’s. An act of odd intimacy between friends and warriors. Tainted, by Solaufein’s brusque grumblings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not her body. It bore only a faint resemblance to her own. Slender where she was broad, muscle lean where it ought be bulky. Veldrin’s body. It made it easier. She felt no shame or embarrassment, nor urge to cover herself as it was exposed to the stranger. For that, she was grateful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He indicated for her to lie down. She did, mechanically. Her eyes bored into the stone ceilings, the carvings of zig-zags and abstract lines. A strong, long-fingered hand crawled across her torso. Slow and tender, less than a ghost across her nipples. It chilled her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are as repulsed as I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She set her teeth. “Don’t take it personally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein smirked. “Shut your eyes. Pretend I’m not here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s eyes snapped shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the hand continued, down between her thighs. The bed shifted as he sat up and forced her legs apart to the open air. It was impossible to pretend it wasn’t Solaufein. Easier, though, it was to pretend Thalia was not there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veldrin, of course, had lain with dozens of subservient males. She feared only Solaufein’s pride taking vengeance, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>accidentally</span>
  </em>
  <span> letting her fall in battle. No momentary pleasure was worth death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers found her cold and dry. He was not passionate, but he was persistent. Mechanical, as though he followed the steps of a training manual. For all she knew, he did. A thin saliva passed over his fingers as he stroked her more intently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, before she even realised, tension bled from her. Her lips parted and a heat radiated through her. A sigh passed her lips. A different tension built, rapid and unstoppable. It choked a moan in her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand slid back to her thigh. Her pleasure broke and scattered, moments from release, and her eyes shot open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein stared down at her, eyebrow raised, daring her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was bold. Insolent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even moments from climax, Thalia realised it was a test. He toyed with her. He was betting she wouldn’t beat him for denying her pleasure. Perhaps he even hoped she would take Phaere’s offer and command him. That, somehow, she was just as cruel and heartless as Phaere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia met his even stare. And said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not finding what he searched for, Solaufein grunted and stood. He pulled her legs to the end of the bed and, before she could resettle or shut her eyes, entered her swiftly. The sudden stretching fullness made her hiss. The intensity left her gasping, her skin too sensitive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not how she thought it was happen. Not enough of her remained to care. Disguised as a drow, lost in the Underdark, forced by an unwilling male who was little more than a slave. Lacking her own body and soul, it was barely recognisable as Thalia. What remained, anyway?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein stood between her open legs, her knees braced under his arms, as he began to move. His fingers found her pleasure again, bringing her to the edge of a new peak. Harder. Relentless. Her fingers knotted in the sheets and she struggled for breath. The small room pressed on them. It magnified the scent of sweat and desire, the sounds of flesh and her own bitten groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At last, Thalia couldn’t contain herself. She cried out as the pleasure overtook her, tensing around him. Her legs drew him deeper and she reached out, only to grab his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein ripped himself from her and shook off her grip. Panting, Thalia brushed a strange lock of white hair from her eyes and sat up. A soft glow spread through her muscles, leaving her content — and confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his back to her and hastily dragged his clothes on. Underclothes. Trousers, boots, and shirt. Armor. Swords.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia could not take her mind off the sight of his naked back. Thickly muscled, shoulders tense as iron, a thousand scars crossed it. More, maybe. Some very old and healed to fine white lines. Others so recent they still bled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust you are satisfied?” he spat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein rounded on her. “What do you want me to do with your pity? You think as Phaere does, that I am so weak and unworthy of dignity and respect?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the most he had looked at her since he had undressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but we have stayed her wrath a while longer.” Thalia reached for her own clothes and felt his eye on her still, disbelieving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why does this order gall you so?” asked Solaufein skeptically. “An hour of pleasure with the weapons master of the Third House, a chance to remind your commander of his place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t appreciate being ordered to humiliate those I respect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps such respect was just as alien to drow, but Thalia suspected there was a certain honour among warriors. A pride, in the hierarchy and battle. Drow were people, too, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia sat to tie her boots and found a bottle waved in front of her face. Unmarked, but when she undid the cork alcohol fumes wafted. Solaufein chose one from the shelf for himself, but offered no answer. His face was dark and unreadable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next door, Viconia and Haer’Dalis started anew. Even louder, if it was possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and your leader work together well,” said Solaufein reluctantly. “The noble female.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do what I’m told, even when words aren’t used.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a face into his drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia frowned. “Did I say something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, nothing,” he muttered. He stood and adjusted himself against the wall. “It’s… It’s a miserable place, I know, to find someone whose thoughts and desires you know so well you are enslaved to yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wistfulness in his voice provoked her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and Phaere?” she asked quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein hardened again. “Do not let Phaere’s petty gift of me let you forget your place. I will not speak of our… dealings. Suffice it to say that she and House Despana cannot take proper revenge. Yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, now you serve them. And I you,” said Thalia grimly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My matron mother decided I was a useful bargaining chip, to broker peace.” Solaufein set aside the drink and crossed his arms. “If I return, it is a boon. If not, I trained enough males that another will take my place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, me and Viconia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirked. “Play the nobles’ games. Phaere might make you a member of House Despana, Handmaiden to the First Daughter of Matron Mother Ardulace — or she might make you a slave. As Lolth wills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My weapon is ever-sharp, my poison is strong,” muttered Thalia, and she found she truly did draw strength from the maxim. She was capable, independent, and needed no one and nothing to prevail but her own skills.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brow furrowed. “You are quite fond of that saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you are of </span>
  <em>
    <span>As Lolth wills.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Solaufein shrugged. “My life is in the Mother’s hands. Not my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Thalia’s turn to mislike the truth of his words and how they rung between her ears. But, who held her life? Not Bhaal, not anymore — if he ever had. Not Irenicus, who abandoned thought of her. A malthropic force that wished her discomfort and suffering. Entropy was too dispassionate. Destiny too fantastical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Phaere is someone worth staying on her good side,” said Solaufein suddenly. “Over the years, she’s killed most of her sisters — older and younger. The capable ones, at least. She’s biding her time, waiting for her mother to advance the house to the head of the council before she takes her prize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia breathed deep. The fumes from the bottle made her head swim. “Ambition is a beast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A spider,” he said, taking her accusation for approval. “And Phaere’s only grown fatter and hungrier. Now…” He drained the bottle. “Now, I think I will let her know my exact thoughts on being forced to stroke her newest little pet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could argue, he pushed open the door and vanished. The door gaped, swinging, and his voice carried far as he stomped downstairs. Phaere answered in kind, beginning with slick taunts but deteriorating shrilly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened again and Thalia started, but it was only Viconia. Wrapped in a black sheet, she sat next to her on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia’s instinct was </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but… why not? The orgasm had left her content. She had performed Veldrin’s role above reproach. Solaufein was tight on Phaere’s leash and not likely to respond against her. Somehow, he hadn’t held it against her. It was obedience, a value held in esteem like honour among humans. She wanted to say she didn’t know if she could do this anymore, that this wasn’t her, that it left a foul taste in her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But those were lies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her grip on the bottle was loose, her heart beat steadily, and the past let her be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thalia shrugged. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. A'dos Quarth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> [Chapter 28: As Commanded]<br/></em>
</p><p>As it turned out, being the mercenary employed to a grumpy and reluctant servant to an ambitious drow noble was exhausting. Thalia slid past effortlessly and the halberd sliced thin air. Wickedly curved weapon, it was only wielded by a slave. A warrior in another life, one long passed. The dreugar used his short height and long weapon to keep her back, but he nearly stumbled over his dead fellows.</p><p>She should’ve asked for a shield.</p><p>Thalia could not remember ever fighting for sport, but the thrill of the audience was heady. The dreugar struck again. Impatient. She feinted and circled around him, finding the chink at the back of his neck. Applause. Favour. Blood spilled on black sand under her boots. </p><p>Weary and bruised, Thalia left the pit. Phaere clapped politely at a table overlooking the dozen fighting arenas. In those nearest, Solaufein and Anomen fought a dozen beholders at once, and Edwin tested his skills against a gnomish wizard.</p><p>“Enjoying yourself, Veldrin?” asked Viconia with a dry smile.</p><p>“Always.” She grunted as she settled and made a hand for drink. Viconia ordered her a tonic, which Thalia fast understood as a healing potion. The taste burned rancid, but worked away on her bruises. </p><p>Viconia lingered protectively over Haer’Dalis and shared a questioning look with Thalia. It had been her idea. Edwin was, in fact, a powerful mage. Anomen could indeed hold his own against impossible odds. Haer’Dalis was clever and quick, but better as a second. He played the part of adoring sycophantic male quite well, to the point it rose bile whenever she looked at him.</p><p>Anomen ducked low to avoid the flashing gaze of the beholder. She could’ve gone many years without seeing one of those. A molted greyish skin wrapped around a single veined eyeball bigger than a hound. The tentacled creature floated, fighting with magic and lashes. Anomen’s shield dented inwards with the force of the rays. Solaufein leapt deftly off the cage walls and struck one from the air.</p><p>“What of you, Phaere?” asked Thalia. “Enough blood spilled to entertain you?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m awaiting a particular blood to be spilled, but his skill is unfortunate in this regard.” Phaere turned to address Viconia. “Your warrior male is… passable.”</p><p>“Far more than that. You ought’ve put him alone in a cage.”</p><p>The lazy pleasantness left Phaere. “You think to tell me what to do?” </p><p>“I’m telling you his abilities,” said Viconia lightly, but amusement danced in her eyes. “I merely know them well and wish for others to know them the same.”</p><p>“Every fight is an inspiring display of skill.” Thalia stood at the tall table between the two of them. “The First Blade hasn’t even managed to steal the show. That alone is impressive enough for Arathis.”</p><p>Phaere swallowed that with her drink, nose wrinkled in distaste. “Fights of warriors against monsters and slaves… It is unseemly. The only opponent worthy of a drow is another drow.” She gripped her cup with a light touch, but her smile was sharp and hard. “I’ll return shortly.”</p><p>Wondering if she had said something wrong that would get them all killed, Thalia stumbled into a chair. </p><p>“We should’ve come here an age ago, you and me, dear friend.” Viconia gave a small smile.</p><p>“I don’t know if my heart can take it. Every time she speaks to me, all I think is that it would be easier to run her through.”</p><p>“Patience,” she counseled.</p><p>The last of the beholders fell dead and Solaufein and Anomen left to roaring applause. Both were rather more in need of health tonics. Especially since they couldn’t rely on Viconia’s clerical power. Anomen hissed as he set the shield down.</p><p>“Dislocated?” asked Thalia.</p><p>“Tentacle… got me at the end.” His wine red eyes sprung open. “Mistress.”</p><p>Thalia set down her drink. “Come. Let me set it.”</p><p>He grunted in pain as she shoved his shoulder back into place. Thalia felt Solaufein’s questioning eye on her again.</p><p>“Dote over them any more and you might as well go Above,” drawled Viconia. Her look was so innocently snide that Thalia knew there was one thing she could do.</p><p>She kicked the shield over. It clanged away. “How dare you! After all I’ve done for you, you think to insult me like that—”</p><p>“Know your place. Among them. More importantly, with <em> me,” </em> said Viconia dangerously.</p><p>She blanched. “Y-Yes, Viconia. I am sorry.”</p><p>Solaufein’s face remained impartial and guarded, but there was the barest nod.</p><p>Thalia was about two minutes away from swearing her genuine undying allegiance to Viconia. Every conversation, every word among the drow had a second underlying meaning. She could read only Viconia’s — until it was too late.</p><p>A bell sounded and gathered the attention of the arena’s spectators. Sondal, a grim elder male who oversaw the fights, stepped to the podium at the head. “If I might direct attention to the pit at the fore! The pride of males of the First House, weapons master Lasaonar, is to prove his ability. Four members of the Male Fighters’ Society have answered slanderous comment with demands for blood. Lasaonar has shown his contempt by facing them all at once!”</p><p>Lasaonar proved to be the closest the drow could produce as bulky and ugly. He wore a drowish fullplate. A slave scutteled forward with his weapon and Lasaonar drew a beautiful two-handed sword. A handspan thick, curved and toothed. Thalia couldn’t imagine wielding such a weapon, but it was a toothpick in Lasaonar’s hands. A sturdy woman cast spells on him before leaving the pits.</p><p>His opponents sized their chances and, throughout the stands, bets and jeers came.</p><p>“Only fools would’ve insulted a house’s weapons master,” sniffed Solaufein. “Eager for their own deaths.”</p><p>“Lusting for the glory of victory,” said Haer’Dalis mildly. “Death is a price we all pay in the end. We only ought ensure our lives worth it.”</p><p>Sondal gave the signal and Lasaonar struck with startling speed. His opponents had expected a drawn out battle, strategic as he faced the four of them. Already on the defensive, one dead, the outcome was assured. He toyed only with the last one, but with his prior performance it was clear he was humiliating him. It was a show. He let his enemy land a few weak blows, some near fatal misses. The last spray of red brought feverish cheers from the typically subdued drow.</p><p>Viconia clapped, slow and quiet. “I do hope Phaere has gone to arrange more exciting affairs than a mere slaughter.”</p><p>Phaere led Lasaonar from the pits, his slave trailing behind, as she led them to her box.</p><p>“They were worms,” he said to Phaere with relish, tucking his helm under his arm. “Weak middling houses. Their blades were dull and listless.” He gave a stiff and unwelcome bow to Viconia. “I see the demonstration of my skill has pleased you.”</p><p>“You are a competent warrior,” said Thalia ironically, “for a male.”</p><p>Lasaonar stared. “You flatter with insults, peasant.” </p><p>He stole her cup and drained it. Thalia managed to catch the curses Viconia muttered under her breath. Anger flashed behind Phaere’s eyes.</p><p>“Ignore Veldrin, weapons master,” said Viconia swiftly. “Her tongue has long proved her own lash. I will discipline her on our own time.”</p><p>“I ignore nothing and no one who thinks to slander me,” said Lasaonar. His brutal features curled into a smile.</p><p>“Come now, Lasaonar,” said Solaufein, bored, “they’re foreigners. Ched Nasan—”</p><p>“Does Ched Nasan know nothing of honour?” </p><p>Slow, languid Lasaonar stepped forward and spat full in Thalia’s face. She wiped the spittle from her eye with a terrible feeling. She was skilled, strong, and quick. But she knew she was nothing compared to an elvish weapons master. To refuse would be unthinkable — to the drow and her, she realised. She glanced to Haer’Dalis.</p><p>“Death comes for us all,” she said. “Now, it comes for you, Lasaonar. Prepare yourself.”</p><p>“Veldrin, I would accompany you, if you would have me,” said Anomen sincerely.</p><p>“No more lopsided slaughters,” said Phaere, her lip curling. “We shall see how <em> this </em>… unsavoury turn of events progresses.”</p><p>Thalia stiffened her shoulders and banished the memory of fear. This had been her error. She alone would pay for it. Viconia would keep the men out of harm’s way and return them to the surface. Long past, she had come to terms with meeting an unexpected death. For it to be so foolish grated her.</p><p>Thalia replaced her helmet and followed Lasaonar back down the stairs. The smirking arrogance rolled off him in waves. If she could land a single hit, she would consider it a victory. Bloody that nose.</p><p>“What is going on?” asked Edwin. They ran into him, returning from his own wizard’s duel. Soot blackened his drowish face and purple-grey robes.</p><p>“Oh, I insulted the weapons master of the First House,” said Thalia lightly. “Wish me luck.”</p><p>Lasaonar continued without her, Edwin’s dark calculating eyes digging into his spine.</p><p>“You are an <em> idiot,” </em> he hissed.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Edwin glared and thrust his hand into his pocket, forcing it into her own hand. Metal clanged on her gauntlet. Confused, she looked down into a gold and ruby necklace. The stone had been deeply cracked and fragments chipped off. Within, swirled bleak leathery wings and fire. He lay a hand on her shoulder and, lips muttering, the magic poured from him. More than she had ever felt. It wound around her like ropes.</p><p>“If… If it saves your life,” he said stiffly. “The memento is far enough gone. Simply smash it. There remains sizable magical energies stored in the metal — I want them back.”</p><p>Thalia closed her fist on the necklace. It was practical. Keeping appearances. Keeping the group intact as long as they could. Having a second female in this world of the drow. A better chance of his own survival. Even, thinking far ahead, bringing her to Thay. He had no use for her corpse. And, now, with Imoen dead, she had no use for him. That necklace was powerful, though. She knew he saved it for dire battles. Minsc and Dynaheir. The lich. </p><p>Without another word, Edwin brushed past. She grabbed his arm, but what was she supposed to say? Ask him to kill Irenicus for her? Tell him to watch over the others? </p><p>Worry creased his eyes, even as he sneered. “Don’t strain your ego attempting to thank me.”</p><p>“Thank you. Abbil.”</p><p><em> Friend. </em> An ally. One to whom backs are turned in trust.</p><p>The word surprised Edwin. It surprised Thalia.</p><p>She released her grip on him and, his spells still on her, followed Lasaonar down into the fighting pit. The matronly woman — a cleric, she could see now — cast her own spells on Lasaonar. Lolth was praised in excess.</p><p>Thalia dropped the amulet in the black sands, shifting it with her boot to cover it.</p><p>Above them, Sondal announced the duel. Thalia couldn’t focus on a word of it. She refused to take her attention from her opponent. Not a weapons master. Not an aged elf. Not a drow, fighting in the bowels of the Underdark. Only another enemy. Heavy and strong, brutish. Spells bolstered him, to wave about that ridiculous sword like it was nothing. He didn’t have the grace of the elves. There was nothing subtle about him. </p><p>Strange but familiar, the longsword and dagger fit in her hands. </p><p>A voice called. A countdown.</p><p>Thalia felt herself empty even further. Her heartbeat was strong and slow. Her weapon was ever-sharp, her poison strong.</p><p>Lasaonar charged — enough to make her tense. He stopped in the middle of the pit, staring. He paced. He waited. Thalia refused to back off. She followed him. She would not strike first. It would be futile, to charge and impale herself on that thing. And he knew.</p><p>The crowd would not wait forever. He was a showman, a male drow in service to the First House. He had a reputation to maintain. An honour.</p><p>Lasaonar charged, his sword cresting an underhanded sweep. As he approached, Thalia stepped on the necklace. A trio of red feydragons burst from the sands in a flutter of wings and flaming maws. Lasaonar staggered and Thalia slid to avoid his shocked recovery. The dagger fit seamlessly in his armpit gap. </p><p>Lasaonar groaned, cursing, and fell back. The feydragons circled. His gaze broke from her, enough for her to test him. His block came swift and sudden — a reflex honed by decades. Centuries. And powerfully strong. Never would she defeat him in a melee. He slashed high and killed one of the feydragons. It screeched, bleeding, and fell. Fiery breaths warmed the air.</p><p>He was defending his own honour. She was defending her right to offend him. He needed to be honourable, but she didn’t.</p><p>Thalia skidded a boot through the black sands, sending up a grey cloud. The feydragons read her intention and, as the sand reached Lasaonar, it passed through a wall of flame. Harmless pebbles of sand turned into molten glass. </p><p>He shied away to protect his eyes. Glass beads hardened on frosty armor, sliding straight down his sword. He was prepared for her to strike and pressed hard. She fell backwards — until she remembered they were in a fighting pit. A wall hit her from behind, startling her. The sword bore down on her and her arms shuddered with the force of holding it back. His wound didn’t seem to bother him any. Magic supported her muscles — just as magic supported his own. She turned his blade aside and it scraped with a squeal against the metal wall.</p><p>Thalia ducked low as she evaded. The surviving pair of feydragons sprayed Lasaonar with fire. He bore it with a laugh, unharmed, as the fire melted steam on his armor. </p><p>However, something cracked. It was a crackle Thalia knew well. Magical enchantments breaking. He realised it just as she did. He chased the remaining feydragons to cut them down, but it was too late.</p><p>His armor’s magic gave way.</p><p>Lasaonar whirled to defend his back just in time, but his strength weakened. He couldn’t hold the block, spinning her longsword aside and slashing in turn. Bold, Thalia raised only her dagger to parry. The dagger flew from her grasp and back into the sands.</p><p>Lasaonar pressed the advantage, even lacking his enchantments. There was no pretense anymore. He was bulky, but just as swift as any other elf. Thalia struggled to keep her eye on his blade, to anticipate his attacks. She was utterly unfamiliar with drow fighting styles. And she couldn’t spare the mind to think of a new tactic.</p><p>The Slayer offered herself in her ear, a helpful whine, but that would be far worse than simply dying. Questions would be asked.</p><p>The greatsword feinted, spinning to crack across her knuckles. The fingers of her right hand broke. Pain screamed across her hand, numb to adrenaline. She dropped the longsword and had to leave it behind. All she could do was let him chase her, hope he could tire.</p><p>The wall slammed into her back again. Her boot clanked against metal in the sands. The dagger. Panting, Thalia met Lasaonar’s even stare. He seized her up and began to swing. The heavy sword whistled as it sliced the air. Even without magical strength, Lasaonar was plenty strong. And gathering speed.</p><p>Paralyzed by indecision — dodge left? right? under? over? — there was no time left. The sword would carve a neat arc through her shoulder, down to a hip.</p><p>Thalia held her breath.</p><p>The sword came.</p><p>She braced her broken fingers and caught the blade to a halt on her bracer. The bone cracked with white hot pain. For a brief second, the sword was right there. A beautiful weapon, a cut of black adamantine, sparkling with purple.</p><p>She grabbed it. The double-sided blade cut deep, through leather and her own drowcraft, biting into tendons. Magic heat scorched her flesh. In another life, the sword might’ve corroded under her touch. A frosty rust to rend it into shards. But the taint was dead.</p><p>Lasoanar startled, confused but wary.</p><p>The feydragons read her intent and fire blasted them both. Their boots. The heat was almost unbearable. The sand underneath them melted and hardened to glass.</p><p>Thalia twisted Lasoanar off-balance and he stumbled to the ground. An ambitious feydragon took the greatsword in its claws and dragged it away. She ripped her dagger from the sands and fell on top of him, ready to drive it through the slit in his helmet.</p><p>“Yield!” he hissed.</p><p>He hadn’t said it loud enough for any other to hear. It didn’t count. Thalia shoved him into the still-melting sands.</p><p>“YIELD!” Lasoanar undid his own helmet and shouted it again. White hair clung sweatily to his forehead. “Yield,” he said, breathless, through gritted teeth. “I yield the victory.”</p><p>Adrenaline coursed through her, echoed by the bloodthirsty crowd. Without a thought, she fell back on him and there was no resistance. By drow law, his life was hers. And she took it. Blood washed her hands and the hysterical cheers grew deafening.</p><p>The feydragons vanished and she staggered unsteadily to her feet. The necklace had been shattered, scattered, but she found most of the ruby and a few bits of gold filigree. As she recovered her weapons, a new figure came to the sands. The older cleric, dressed in fine drow chain and robes, a mace at her belt. Her hands folded in front of her, eyes like shattered ruby.</p><p>“Lasaonar is my favourite male,” said the female coldly. “His honour is of value to the First House.”</p><p>“Was,” said Thalia.</p><p>“You have a debt of honour to pay, foreigner. And I accept blood as its price.”</p><p>Thalia gripped her dagger tightly, ignoring the protests from her broken fingers. It lashed out and settled easily on the female’s throat. Shock darted through her eyes.</p><p>“You’re on the sands,” said Thalia lightly. Hungry blood pounded in her ears. “Armed. Armored. You challenged me and I’m within my rights to answer it.”</p><p>The crowd was hungry for more blood. Lasoanar’s slaughter was an old memory, his defeat and death already forgotten. They called for an answer the cleric misliked. Fear widened her eyes, but she agreed to the duel with a nod.</p><p>“Kill her, Veldrin,” called Phaere from the stair.</p><p>And Veldrin killed her. A throat slit, life easily pouring away. As Thalia walked from the new corpse, it did not linger with her. She had expected it to. Yet, she did not know the cleric’s name. The surrender in those eyes did not haunt her. All Thalia wondered was if she had angered the First House, but Phaere’s relieved and hungry smile assured her. For now, they were under her protection.</p><p>Phaere ushered them all to return to the Five Masks. She herself healed the worst of Thalia’s injuries over dew and lunch. Hot food and strong drink filled her. It left her just as empty as before. Curiously cold. She pushed the remainder of Edwin’s necklace into his hands, her fingers closing around his in silent thanks.</p><p>Viconia kept smalltalk flowing with Phaere, drawing her back each time she lavished praise for the performance in the pits. Solaufein and Thalia ate in stocic silence. Dim praise filtered down for their performances — the honour, the glory. It meant nothing.</p><p>Thankfully, Viconia dismissed Thalia and the others. Phaere banished Solaufein rather less pleasantly. The noble drow females wanted to talk alone.</p><p>Thalia took another tonic before retiring to a bath. Hot and spiced, it washed the memory of the day away. However, it left her even more empty. Untethered. As if she had been simply created only moments ago — no past, no future, a lifeless present. She lay in bed too long, vacant.</p><p>A hand twisted at the doorknob. It knocked respectfully.</p><p>“Come in.”</p><p>Thalia had expected Viconia. Perhaps, Edwin had learned to knock and he wanted to exchange awkward words after his sudden aid. It was Haer’Dalis.</p><p>He closed the door softly behind him. He moved gingerly, as if afraid of hurting the air around him. When she didn’t look at him or argue, he sat at the edge of the bed.</p><p>“How are you, dear Veldrin?”</p><p>She flinched. “Don’t call me that.”</p><p>“Tis what you must be.”</p><p>“Do you want me to <em> be </em> Veldrin?” she asked the ceiling. “Nothing is left to stop me. I can be cruel, ruthless, callous. I can take what I want, when I want. I feel no difference between the thrill of blood spilt in honourable duel, or from a slave forced to fight, or from a yielded opponent. I have no heart. No conscience. Little soul.” </p><p>With a terrible gentleness, Haer’Dalis reached a hand to stroke the hair from her brow. “Do you fear the dark?”</p><p>“I fear what the dark has done to me.” She nodded and waited for tears that refused to flow. “And,” she said slowly, “I can say with certainty that Thalia died when Irenicus ripped the soul. Veldrin is a fine enough life to live. Why not forever?”</p><p>“You are searching for a reason.”</p><p>“For now. Tomorrow, I might not.”</p><p>She propped herself against the wall and Haer’Dalis nestled above her. The unfamiliar features of his drow skin twisted pensively.</p><p>“What mask we wear and name we bear means little,” he said. “Cruelty spurs tragedy. Dragging entropy behind you like a body through fresh fallen snow, tis <em> beautiful </em>. And your nature. We all make our choices, but one day our choices make us.”</p><p>Thalia snorted. Why had she bothered to talk to the bard? “What the hells does that mean?”</p><p>“We are what we do. Care not about opinions and definitions, or your lack of heart. Act as the person you want to be would do, and you shall be her. Please, my raven, sing of your sorrows.”</p><p>The drama bit the edge off his sincerity. Had she been able to feel it truly, she might’ve missed the crease of concern in his voice and brow.</p><p>“What happened between you and Viconia?” she asked.</p><p>Haer’Dalis’ head tipped back and he laughed. It was a most peculiar sound in the city of the drow, coming from ash grey lips, but it banished the illusion briefly.</p><p>“Do you rather think I lay awake at night, pondering our illustrious commander’s hands roaming your naked new form? Sad to say I disappoint,” he said coyly. “Does this sparrow make your empty black heart thrum with vibrant jealousy?”</p><p>“Yes,” she admitted. “It’s one of the few emotions I do feel. This place is getting to me.”</p><p>“Tis a role we had to play. Nothing more.” He smiled. “She somewhat overexaggerated my talents, if that is something crossing your mind.”</p><p>Thalia wished she knew how to return the flirt, to lighten her heart so easily. Her mind remained trapped on his first words. “The first man I murdered, I told him my fears and he gave me a new one. <em> Becoming less than yourself along the way, finding the faces of others to fit better than your own.” </em></p><p>Haer’Dalis sombered. “People change and don’t oft ask permission. Ourselves least of all,” he said softly. “You have had a great wrong enacted against you, my raven. You have lost so much of who and what you are — and robbed thereof the ability to even grieve it.”</p><p>“Inevitable, though,” she said carelessly. “All life exists to die. All things exist to end. You’re not exactly a beacon of hope. Realistic, but hopeless.”</p><p>“Tis only as hopeless as you wish to see it, my friend. Death is no end, but the fertile soil of renewal. Surely there is light there, aye?”</p><p>His fingers wove deeper into her hair. Thalia longed to find solace as he pulled her against him but, even as she cooperated and let his arm wind around her shoulders, it elicited little.</p><p>“What are you doing?” she asked.</p><p>Haer’Dalis sniffed a sad smile. “No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get ahead,” he recited. “When I think I’m moving forward, I find I’m falling back instead. I struggle and I strive, to make things work out right. But when I look around, my dreams are nowhere in sight. I carry this exhaustion, reaching to my very core. I attempt to keep going, but my everything feels sore. I keep fighting so hard, to keep my hope alive. I’m stricken with despair, as I struggle and I strive.”</p><p>“What are you complaining about? You didn’t lose your soul.”</p><p>“At times, it feels as if I have,” he whispered, melancholy.</p><p>Thalia swallowed and braced herself. She did not know who she was or who she wanted to be anymore, but she knew she would not be Sarevok. Sarevok disintegrating had driven away Tamoko, the last good influence in his life. It left him with only those greasing his path downwards. Cold, merciless, bloodthirsty.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said wholeheartedly. “I… I know I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t truly feel very much any affection anymore. It makes me choose my words poorly — even worse.”</p><p>“Tis tragic, my raven.” Haer’Dalis pressed his lips to her hair. “Yet, your sparrow is well adjusted to life’s ever-changing terrains. If, for now, that may include a raven’s shifting plumage, tis all as well.”</p><p>“You move on easily,” she said, surprised.</p><p>“Better than the alternatives of bitterness and regret, let alone the living death of stagnation and complacency.”</p><p>It sat unwell with Thalia, for reasons she couldn’t put to words. That encouraged her, that somehow she could still find instinctive feelings. “Is that the only alternative? Let go lightly or wallow?”</p><p>He tilted her chin to meet his puzzled gaze. “Have you a third option?”</p><p>“No, but I hope there’s a third.”</p><p>Haer’Dalis’ eyes analyzed her. The back of his fingers brushed her cheek fondly, finding their root in her hair again. This, she knew, was the moment where he kissed her. His breath was warm on her face, his touch sweet. A hunger brewed in her, a match to the dark cast of his eyes.</p><p>Thalia pulled back. She sat up, legs dangling off the edge.</p><p>“Apologies,” he said. He settled next to her.</p><p>“You are an attractive man — whatever shape you’re in.” She shrugged. “Intriguing. Insightful.”</p><p>“And, yet my raven is not charmed,” said Haer’Dalis without a moment of hesitation. “Is your soul cold to desire?”</p><p>“No.” Thalia sighed. “But why should I entertain anything more? I will die alone, on the bloody road of vengeance, abandoned on all sides by those I think to love. Maybe betrayed again. We all find our destiny alone. Why would I make our inevitable parting any more painful than it will be already?”</p><p>His hand slid deliberately up her back and his body slid against hers. Close. Warm. </p><p>“Your tone is so casual, but your words belie the great trial of sorrow in your heart.”</p><p>She swallowed, thinking on the hollow words in her emptiness. “Perhaps these words are the tears I can’t seem to shed.”</p><p>“Give them all to your sparrow. He will treasure each as the priceless jewels they are. Please. Do not suffer in silence.”</p><p>Haer’Dalis’ desperate longing struck the emptiness, a truth that ached with an echo in the dark. He wanted to help. Tomorrow didn’t matter. She could stupidly challenge another weapons master and barely escape with her life. He could be snapped up or sold by a female who liked the looks of him. Tonight, he held her and gave her what he had to give.</p><p>“I failed her,” said Thalia softly. “Bad things happen to good people, I know, but I considered it my responsibility — my identity — to care for Imoen in the aftermath. I knew we wouldn’t find her healthy and hale, but…”</p><p>“You did more than any could have expected.” He hesitated. “Perhaps, in <em> this </em> aftermath, when you build Thalia anew, you might not build your entire self around such ties — but rather remain free.”</p><p>Thalia smiled. “You don’t know me very well, if you think I’ll surrender the fight for who I love so easily to something as vapid as entropy.”</p><p>“Vapid?” he asked, returning her smile.</p><p>“As empty and heartless as me.”</p><p>“An inescapable power of the multiverse.” His eyes widened and he pulled from his touch, hunting for words. “Forgive me, but the pain of such ties actually worked to <em> shatter </em> your very soul.”</p><p>“The most terrible thing is that it was worth it,” she said, half to herself.</p><p>“Why?” he demanded. “Companionship does not require obsession. Passion—”</p><p>“Love requires devotion. Commitment.” As she said it, she understood it, and the loss of her soul lessoned greatly. She might not feel great fondness. Her heart may still. But she could choose to commit herself in spite of it. As she had chosen to chase Imoen to Spellhold. As Anomen had hunted Moira’s murderer. As Yoshimo had sold his very free will for Tamoko. There simply was no other option.</p><p>“Love is a fleeting, fickle thing, absent of commitment,” said Haer’Dalis. “Tis true meaning is different to all it touches, but I don’t expect you to share my outlook, as much as we have shared.”</p><p>“Commitment requires thought of the future,” she said with a wry smile. “Hope that it will continue beyond today. And we don’t hope for tomorrow, do we?”</p><p>“Ah, you have caught me, my cynical raven.” He sighed and brought her hand to his lips. There was no unnatural heat to his touch.</p><p>The door opened suddenly and Thalia started. She retracted her hand sharpish, but it was only Viconia. </p><p>“Do you have <em> any </em> idea what you did in those pits?” she asked, voice calm with horror. “You made us dearly valuable pawns, upsetting the First House and helping to advance the Third. Despana.”</p><p>“Would it be better if I had died?”</p><p>Viconia scowled. “No! I did not say that, my friend. This position, this eye Phaere has on us, it will be impossible to shake. It is only a matter of time before Despana assaults the First House under cover of darkness. We will be expected forerunners of the assault.”</p><p>“Will you despair to kill priestesses of the Spider Queen?” asked Haer’Dalis, cocking his head. He made no move away from Thalia.</p><p>“Of course not,” scoffed Viconia. “But ambition is a double-edged sword with no hilt.”</p><p>Thalia frowned. “You mean a spear?”</p><p>Haer’Dalis chuckled, but silenced at Viconia’s glare. He bowed deep. “Apologies, mistress.”</p><p>“Phaere wants dinner with us all,” said Viconia sharply. “You have ten minutes to finish whatever this is, before you join.”</p><p>As Viconia slammed the door, Thalia prepared Veldrin’s face anew. It still startled her how similar they were. The arrogance, the bloodthirst, the cold ruthlessness. The mirror was no friend.</p><p>“Never has this actor worn the face of a character quite so literally,” said Haer’Dalis, his voice soft. “Tis important to remember masks come off.”</p><p>“And if they don’t?”</p><p>His hand slipped easily into hers, his thumb stroking her. “They do,” he asserted. “Mortals are cut gems of a thousand faces. No single face is the whole of the gem and it would not surprise your sparrow if a fledgling goddess of death and destruction found kinship among a race such as drow. Know Veldrin is only one face of your gem, one feather in your wing.”</p><p>Thalia scourged herself for words and found none. She settled for letting go of his hand and wrapping her arms around him. As drow, he was inches shorter, his face pressed to her shoulder. Haer’Dalis breathed deep, his hold on her firm as if he feared their parting. There was warmth. Hidden deeper, desire. Unsavoury feelings remained available, but commitment and thanks overshadowed them. There was no brimstone, no hint of sulfur. She released him.</p><p>As they returned downstairs with their masks, Thalia noted the foul look on Solaufein’s face. Among males, it was beyond insolent. Haughty. He and Phaere sat on opposite ends of the table, Viconia nowhere in sight. Solaufein greeted them with a stiff nod.</p><p>Phaere turned her cat-like smile to Thalia. “It is good you have come, Veldrin. Up til now, I’ve had only the company of Solaufein and his pathetic melancholy has drained my patience.”</p><p>“You honour us with your presence, mistress,” said Haer’Dalis, bowing.</p><p>Phaere’s smile grew, as did Solaufein’s scowl. “See, Sola? A little respect.”</p><p>“You’ve my respect, but I am no lickspittle.”</p><p>Thalia sat and breathed fresh air when Viconia descended the stairs, accompanied by Anomen and Edwin.</p><p>“Ah, Viconia, as well. Excellent.” Phaere’s smile darkened. “I trust you are all ready? I shall grace you during supper, but we must leave quickly.”</p><p>“What exactly are we to be ready for?” droned Solaufein. “What foolish ambition are you chasing now?”</p><p>“None of my ambitions are foolish.” Her eyes flashed, her attention absorbed by her angers. “We are all to perform services for the good city and the matron mothers.”</p><p>Solaufein smirked. “I wasn’t aware Mother Ardulance did anything <em> for the good of the city.” </em></p><p>“Silence! I rather enjoyed it when you misplaced your tongue. Let us ensure it is not… permanently misplaced.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes. “One turn, you shall find new threats and eye tyrants shall grow legs.”</p><p>Phaere flushed deeply, eyes flickering to Viconia. “What do you know of eye tyrants?”</p><p>“I know I wish not to face anymore any time soon.”</p><p>Still suspicious, Phaere reached for her cup and found it empty. Haer’Dalis swiftly refilled it, earning him an appraising look and Phaere calmed. “Yes, well. There is one in the city, smuggling adamantine by the spelljammer port. My matron mother has commanded it dead, the body collected.”</p><p>“Collected?” he snapped. “What purpose is served with a tyrant’s carcass?”</p><p>“Serve and survive, Sola, before you outlive your usefulness.”</p><p>“Yet more empty threats, barren of venom.” Languid, he clicked his fingers and summoned a servant for more drink.</p><p>“Since you have such fear of the eye tyrants, First Blade,” said Phaere scathingly, “you can be set the second task.”</p><p>“Just spit it out, if you must.”</p><p>“By the matron mothers, the svirfneblin have not shown Ust Natha sufficient tribute of late. Can you handle slaughtering a single patrol?” Her eyes widened with mock innocence, but Phaere couldn’t brush her smile away.</p><p>Solaufein paused, cup half-raised to his lips. Gears cranked silently behind his eyes. “What? The <em> gnomes? </em> I’m… to kill gnomes? I’ve better things to do than waste my time, woman!”</p><p>“Better things to do than serve the Queen of the Demonweb Pits?” asked Phaere, brow raised. “Mother Lolth herself?”</p><p>He laughed bitterly. “As if the Spider Queen cares what we do with deep gnomes! Send Veldrin, if you must. She can do this without me.”</p><p>“You will obey your mistress, male,” snapped Viconia. “And Veldrin shall go with you.”</p><p>Thalia poured herself a drink and gave a wary eye. “I will?”</p><p>“Take the wizard as well.” Viconia gave Edwin a lazy sneer. “Perhaps his robes can mop up the svirfneblin slime.”</p><p>Edwin flushed a blotchy grey. “I am more than capable of slaying a be—”</p><p>“Obey,” said Viconia, more sharply, and Edwin swallowed his tongue. Her tone cleared as she turned pleasantly to Phaere. “May I and the other males accompany you to find this eye tyrant?”</p><p>“It was just as I thought,” said Phaere, eyes lingering along Haer’Dalis. “We shall leave once we take our supper.”</p><p>Solaufein pushed himself from the table with disgust. “You truly do spend all your waking time thinking of new ways to humiliate me, don’t you?”</p><p>“Truly,” said Phaere with a small smile, “I scarce think of you at all.”</p><p>Alien emotion burned through his face before he recovered his guard. “Veldrin!” he snapped. “Come.”</p><p>Thalia swallowed her drink and grabbed Edwin by the shoulder. Solaufein made rapid pace through the city and they struggled to keep up. He did not let up until they were well within the dark of the wilds. The suffocating silence wrung a different tense calm from him. Under darkvision, the wilds burst into cold shades of black and purple. Wingfish, high above, fluttered in purpling oranges.</p><p>“Thank you for sparing me that supper,” said Thalia dryly.</p><p>“I spared myself,” he muttered. Solaufein hissed his breath and slowed to a more even pace. “How old are you, Veldrin?”</p><p>Thalia felt herself reel at the question. What was reasonable for elves? Viconia was two centuries and change, but—</p><p>“Too young,” he said curtly. “Phaere knows now we share a particular weakness of pride. The trap she lay with Lasaonar was for me. It was a pathetic attempt to get me to throw my life away, but you stepped to the bit first.”</p><p>“I survived.”</p><p>“By trickery.” He stopped them, eyes a haunting amber in darkvision. “You are no great warrior, Veldrin. You are too prideful. And too young. Phaere will wrap you in webs and devour you whole.”</p><p>“Bold, for a male to criticise me like that,” she said coolly.</p><p>“It is merely advice, born of near three centuries,” he said. “I’ve slain house mothers, clerics and priestesses, weapons masters, and promising novices alike. I’ve partook of house destructions, assassinations, and worse. Obey. Obey and live — but know when it is time for your dagger to find a back.”</p><p>“Hope you aren’t planning to land one in mine here.” She spread her arms to indicate the bleak wilds. “Here, in the middle of nowhere.”</p><p>Solaufein broke a small smile. “By the Mother, no. Not yet, but our time may well come, Veldrin.”</p><p>“And now the time has come to slay svirfneblin,” drawled Edwin.</p><p>Solaufein rose a brow, surprised he spoke up, but continued on. “From what I saw, wizard, you could destroy them alone, if you did not trip over your robes. It was you, truly, who killed Lasaonar.”</p><p>Edwin smiled broadly. “Indeed. Warriors are scarce competition for a powerful wizard.”</p><p>Solaufein gave Thalia a questioning look. “I am not one to say such things, but a strong <em> silencing </em> charm has kept him alive these years, yes?”</p><p>“If only.”</p><p>Solaufein led them up the cliffside, deeper into the wilds across paths no wider than a handspan. Suddenly, he threw him arm back and brought them to a halt. His fingers dashed through the air, drawing lines across darkvision. Thalia expected a spell. When none came, her stomach fell.</p><p>A magic whispered over her, as Solaufein glanced to her irritably.</p><p><em> Yes, can you hear? </em> Edwin’s voice burst into her mind. <em> Blasted drow handsign. Nod. Nod now, idiot! </em></p><p>Thalia nodded.</p><p>Satisfied, Solaufein drew his blades soundlessly and crept along the cliffs. Thalia looked back urgently to Edwin, who provided a translation.</p><p>
  <em> Svirfneblin ahead. Prepare yourself and do nothing idiotic. Let’s get this over with. </em>
</p><p>Solaufein found a new position and crouched. Below, the ground was flatter, more even, and bore the faint fading glow of small footsteps. Even with the same darkvision, Thalia struggled to pick them out even now.</p><p>Solaufein drew new handsign and Edwin responded quickly in kind. Thalia swallowed, but Edwin had left her mind. A moment later, a portal screamed open on the road below. Black misty shadows stepped out and set an ambush.</p><p>Solaufein snorted suddenly and settled into a more comfortable sitting position. “Phaere does like making me dance,” he said bitterly. “I’ll slay gnomes, if she wants, but I won’t do this nonsense of patrol and scouting. Not against svirfneblin.”</p><p>“What’d they do to earn the ire of the matron mothers?” asked Thalia.</p><p>He shrugged. “You know as well as I. Perhaps the last <em> peace gift </em> was insufficient. The gems too poor quality, the gold impure, the slaves too old or too weak. More likely, nothing, and Phaere wanted only to watch me debase myself by sending a weapons master to kill… to kill…” He stammered over an acceptable insult.</p><p>“Talking grey shoe leather?” offered Edwin.</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>“There’s no point killing them,” said Thalia. A dim yellow glow drifted much further down the road. A patrol. A dozen. Had any aided them while they stayed in Brackenrock?</p><p>“No point disobeying.” Solaufein sighed. “This is no hill worth squabbling over.”</p><p>Edwin had no great qualm about killing the gnomes. Why should she?</p><p>They were lives. And they lived far better lives, kinder lives, than that of the drow. Lives worth living. Thalia felt no conscience, no guilt. Blood would flow easily. Enjoyably. It would wash away just as easily — forgotten as momentary pleasure. But she <em> wanted </em> to feel a conscience.</p><p>“She doesn’t need to know,” said Thalia, not realising she had even said it.</p><p>“What?” snapped Solaufein, surprised.</p><p>She had landed them right in it, now. “You don’t need to dance to her tune. I sure as hells won’t any more than I have to, in order to survive.”</p><p>Solaufein’s eye slid cold over to Edwin.</p><p>“He’ll obey me,” she promised.</p><p>“As you obey Phaere?” asked Solaufein bitterly.</p><p>“As I obey you. You are my commander, not her. And it irks me to see you and your skills insulted.” There was no lie and it was easier to say. “You truly are a magnificent warrior and she wastes you to soothe her ego.”</p><p>The yellow patrol neared, a white flame held aloft and radiating its light and heat across the stone.</p><p>In the deep silence, Solaufein ground his teeth.</p><p>“At the very least,” said Thalia grimly, “you can keep yourself from this. The wizard and I can deal with the gnomes.”</p><p>“No.” He nodded to Edwin. “Call them off.”</p><p>The shadow beasts screeched as they vanished. Solaufein dropped from the high cliffs, levitation saving him as he landed soundlessly on the stone. He called to the gnomes in a language Adalon had not gifted them. The patrol tensed, fearful, but didn’t attack.</p><p>Thalia felt Edwin’s eye on her.</p><p>“What?” she demanded.</p><p>“You slew a house mother and a weapons master of the First House before lunch. And, now, you let a squabble of measly gnomes go free?”</p><p>“It’s all I can do.”</p><p>“You misunderstand,” said Edwin darkly. “It isn’t your choice that grate me. By all means, save all the pests you want! It’s your extremes. Hot and cold. Bloodthirsty and peaceful. You stumble about like a drunk, wild and unpredictable, ricocheting—”</p><p>“I’m touched by your concern.”</p><p>“There—”</p><p>“I am,” she said sincerely, cutting off his hot words. “You saved my life. Again. I owe you. Again. I don’t know how else I can express it, but you threw aside your last trinket to save my life and I’ll endeavor to be worthy of it.”</p><p>Edwin stiffened at the gratitude, twitching uncomfortably. “Save it until we escape this tenth hell. It should be shortly.”</p><p>A dread feeling crept up on her. “What do you mean by that?”</p><p>“Whilst you were galavanting in grey skin, I spent my time unraveling the mysteries of the magic of the Netherese Empire. Elvish wizards have long memories — even drow. A transformation lies in wait, much like the transformation from wizard into lich. The vast expanse of my power should transcend whatever petty abilities these drowlings might conjure against us.” He preened, satisfied. “When the time comes, you best not stay your bloodlust, Bhaalspawn.”</p><p>“You brought the Nether Scroll?” whispered Thalia, horrified.</p><p>Edwin sneered. “Did you truly think I would abandon such a treasure in a dragon’s hoard or Linvail’s manor?”</p><p>Solaufein levitated back to the cliff, a distinctive stone-and-steel helmet in his grasp. His face was stone, but his eyes glittered dark with an almost childish glee. He jerked his head and they retraced their steps down the cliffside. In the distance, the svirfneblin patrol bounded away, unharmed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Inharn’s Veldrin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> [Chapter 29: Father's Shadow] </em>
</p><p>Thalia found herself fighting a smile, as they returned to Ust Natha. Solaufein’s savage excitement faded under layers of crafted guarded arrogance. A familiar half-sneer. She feared well what awaited them at the Five Masks, both Phaere and whatever Edwin planned with the Nether Scroll. This was <em> not </em> the time to mess around with ancient magic beyond them all.</p><p>Phaere, though, did not await them. Looking exceptionally battered, Viconia took the central table in the empty barroom alongside Anomen. Not Haer’Dalis. Viconia finished her spell abruptly and a whip-like slice in Anomen’s face healed.</p><p>Solaufein dropped the helmet on the table. “Did you misplace the First Daughter?”</p><p>“She took the opportunity to relax after battle with my current favourite male,” said Viconia lightly. Her tight eyes turned to Thalia. “Hallis is deeply honoured.”</p><p>“Good for him.” Thalia sat next to Anomen. “What did Phaere do with the eye tyrant’s body?”</p><p>“It was dragged off, by House Despana acolytes,” he said, nursing his bruises. “And, the gnomes?”</p><p>“Dead,” said Edwin solidly.</p><p>“Success all around, then.” Viconia signaled the servant for food and drink. “No less than I expected.”</p><p>Solaufein sat, a margin of his tenseness fading. “I hope the bitten witch finds a new sycophantic pet in your brainless male.”</p><p>“Watch how you speak of her, before she feeds you to the driders,” said Viconia warningly.</p><p>“Yes, do watch how you speak of her.”</p><p>Phaere appeared at the top of the stairs. Her armor had been shed for a loose silken robe, her bound white hair wet from a bath and tumbled down her shoulders. Haer’Dalis stayed behind her respectfully, a stranger putting his clothes back on.</p><p>“Remarkable,” she said frostily, “you managed to slay a patrol of dirt-encrusted svirfneblin.” She handled the helmet. “They are scampering, I am sure, to provide suitable tribute to the matron mothers.”</p><p>“Ah, yes, I’m sure the gnomes were frightfully impressed by our viciousness,” said Solaufein loudly. “No doubt they had no inkling drow were capable of killing.”</p><p>Phaere’s smile returned, more refreshed and cold. “What is this? Are you losing your stomach for blood, Sola? The Spider Queen would be distressed to hear such.”</p><p>The servant felt the charged air between them and, after depositing the plates and jars, scuttled away.</p><p>“I save my wrath for the drow’s true enemies,” said Solaufein with a snarl. “Lolth knows this, as does the matron mother of mine house. It is <em> she </em> I obey.”</p><p>“That is not for you to decide, male!” shouted Phaere. She hurled the helmet, but he caught it easily. “If you don’t silence, I <em> will </em> have your bloody heart ripped from your chest and offered—”</p><p>“I call your bluff.” Solaufein stood, slamming the helmet down. He was just as tall as Phaere, but muscled. And armed. She did not so much as flinch. “Act and risk house war. How would Mother Adulace think on that, I wonder?”</p><p>A truly wild look came to Phaere’s eye. “It would be worth it to silence your impudent tongue! If a Handmaiden were to see you speak to me as such, she would flay you without a second thought.”</p><p>“You should be so lucky, cowardly bitch,” whispered Solaufein savagely. “You don’t have a single original thought in your empty head.”</p><p>Phaere’s mouth dropped. She recoiled from him, hands clenching and unclenching as though itching to wrap around his throat. Something truly dreadful came over her and, slowly, she smiled. “I won’t listen to this, my dear friend. Veldrin,” she said, without taking her eyes from Solaufein.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Follow.”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>Thalia scrambled to her feet and caught Viconia’s brief fearful glance, before they were swallowed by the streets. The doors shut behind them. Phaere stormed across the street and Thalia couldn’t help but feel Viconia’s fear in her. It echoed in her chest, banging on the walls of her heart. Phaere entered a tower on the main street and swept up the stairs, muttering to herself. Thalia swallowed. She had no idea where Phaere was taking her.</p><p>On the highest floor, Phaere threw open a door and stormed into a private apartment. She panted, rage palpable even away from Solaufein. A dwarf slave greeted her and brought a drink. Phaere cursed and smacked him aside. He fled and Thalia couldn’t help but feel jealous.</p><p>Thalia lingered by the door, ready to run at a moment’s notice.</p><p>“You are aware of my relationship with Solaufein, yes?” asked Phaere curtly.</p><p>“I’m not sure—”</p><p>“Don’t play stupid,” she snapped. “His animosity is open and obvious. His insubordination is beyond all endurance, yet I cannot tolerate it further without risking my position.” She poured herself a new drink from a crystal standing bar, dissolving into mutterings. “In that, he is right. The time is not right for a house war… not yet… it is not yet ripe, but…”</p><p>Thalia waited, but she could’ve predicted well the next words Phaere would say.</p><p>“We are drow and the drow show no mercy.” Phaere paced, head bowed. Her long white hair flicked as she turned. “Unspeakable torments await failure for us all. His every word weakens my position, my authority. My time is nearly upon me. And I will <em> not </em> be distracted by a gnat on my back—”</p><p>A hand knocked on the door.</p><p><em> “What?” </em> screamed Phaere.</p><p>“Mistress, you—”</p><p>She threw open the door and Haer’Dalis bowed, forehead to the ground. Phaere’s armor and weapons lay in offering before him. When he glanced up, his eyes were glassy and drifted back to Thalia.</p><p>“If only you were a stronger warrior, male,” said Phare with a sneer. “You are lucky my mood has improved. I might’ve had you tortured for my amusement, but the whim is passing.”</p><p>“I am at your service always, mistress.”</p><p>Phaere turned eyes as dark and flat as blood to Thalia. “Bring me his piwafwi cloak. Do you understand, Veldrin? Telling a soul will bring horrible death upon yourself. I shall keep your secret, if you keep mine.”</p><p>“I look forward to it,” said Thalia coolly.</p><p>Phaere’s smile grew calmer, more charming. “It is good to see a female with a commendable lust for power. Continue this and things in Ust Natha will prove most favourable. Return to me when the job is done.”</p><p>Thalia left with Haer’Dalis, aware of a thousand eyes on them. She didn’t give him a second look. Didn’t blink. Veldrin’s mask was smooth and effortless, thrilled underneath. Thalia herself took refuge in a grim resignation.</p><p>The Five Masks swallowed them again — the empty barroom now, the privacy of the quiet upper halls this late.</p><p>“I imagine the kettle has boiled over at last,” said Haer’Dalis softly.</p><p>Thalia jerked a nod.</p><p>He sighed. “The wretched thing of games of intrigue is that they well tend to breed. Might we see what Solaufein has to say of this, hmm?”</p><p>“First, Viconia.”</p><p>Thalia knocked and waited a summons, but the voice stopped her blood. It was not Viconia’s, but another female’s. She summoned herself and entered. Anomen was deep in his cups, Viconia openly healing the last of his injuries with Sharran prayer-magic. The other female, though, paced in outrage — not unlike Phaere herself.</p><p>“Shut the door,” she ordered.</p><p>Thalia did as she was bade, staring.</p><p>“Shall we see what the others think on this? You know I am right! My already mighty powers — beyond what you might begin to comprehend — have expanded across the horizons. A cunning ruse and strategy lie open before us—”</p><p>“Forget it,” said Viconia waspishly. “Change back. Even if you could manage to tear your eyes from the sky and lay the fine details, I would not lay our survival in your hands.”</p><p>The female jerked back, a guarded expression of indignation cracking before reforming into a scowling sneer. The wave of features was so familiar, Thalia could only stare. The jawline was sharp, the brows thick and familiar, even as a bosom pressed against purple-black robes.</p><p>“What possible reason have I given you to not trust me?” A hint of nasal whine crawled into the voice.</p><p>“Edwin?” asked Thalia tentatively.</p><p>Edwin ignored her, continuing to pace. “Gilead!” he said. “A noble female and powerful mage in a society where females are discouraged from the arcane. It is safer to travel under ruse, revealed only once I am satisfied with my underlings’ performance and our position. Phaere thinks herself unique — all her like do — but she is a common garden snake.”</p><p>“We could use another woman,” said Anomen fairly. He hissed as Viconia dug a nail into a healing bruise. “You said it yourself. If the spelljammer docks are too well guarded, we’ll have to play the drows’ games.”</p><p>Viconia refused to meet his eyes.</p><p>Edwin’s snarl only deepened at her hesitation. “<em> My </em> unparalleled skill as a conjurer bought refuge among the gnomes when we teetered at the brink. <em> My </em> elementals saved your own skin as we fled the illithids. <em> My </em> association with Linvail dodged the Harpers. <em> My </em> sun spell obliterated vampires about to sink their fangs into your pretty little neck.” He scoffed. “I don’t require your thanks. I’m above such petty praise, but I will not have my contributions to this group dismissed or ignored.”</p><p>“And who dragged us into a fight with that lich?” asked Viconia coldly. “The Red Wizards?”</p><p>Edwin opened and shut his mouth. “Seeing as you stop at two, I still win.”</p><p><em> “This </em> was the transformation the Nether Scroll had for you?” asked Thalia in disbelief. “I’m… still lost.”</p><p>“Yes,” said Edwin, satisfied. Even through the drow language, accent, and higher pitch, his cadence was recognisable. “The Nether Scroll is an exceedingly sophisticated document, able to read the world around it and play on wishes, whims, and needs. I needed to walk freely is Ust Natha, my powers respected and put to better use.”</p><p>“And he can’t change back,” said Viconia dryly.</p><p>Edwin’s expression tightened. “That shall be a problem for a later date. Today, we have a new advantage.”</p><p>“And a task. From Phaere,” said Thalia heavily. She sat with Anomen and drank from his cup. The dew slid like an icicle down her throat.</p><p>“Let’s do it and be thankful she let you live.” Viconia furrowed her brow. </p><p>“We thought she was going to kill you.” Anomen smiled weakly. “Solaufein stomped off right after, just as mad, and Haer’Dalis followed you.”</p><p>Thalia poured the last of the jar into the cup and Anomen lay his hand comfortingly on hers. </p><p>“She wants me to kill Solaufein. Any objections?”</p><p>“I’ll do it,” said Edwin crisply. “This is a simple enough task. Solaufein won’t expect it from a stranger and he’ll give quarter to an unknown female.”</p><p>“You think I’m incapable?” scoffed Thalia. She drained Anomen’s cup.</p><p>“You have a fondness for him. You clearly don’t want to do it.”</p><p>“Don’t want to,” she muttered in disgust. She bit her lip, hard. The pain couldn’t hold back her words. “When has what I wanted <em> ever </em> mattered?” she demanded. “I did not want to get stranded in the Underdark, to be enslaved by mindflayers, turned into drow. I did not want to watch Imoen die, to have the Shadow Thieves cheat us, to lose Jaheira’s friendship, to find you — of all miserable souls — in Athkatla, to be tortured by Irencius, responsible for Khalid’s death, or even captured. I did not want to kill Minsc and Dynaheir to save your skin, nor to watch Gorion die. I did not want to lose my soul. I did not want to be born a Bhaalspawn. I did not want to leave Candlekeep. And I do not want to kill Solaufein.”</p><p>By this point, she was standing, but the ache in her chest was so unfamiliar she scarcely recognised it. It radiated from her heart, limbs growing leaden as it spread. A pale shadow of it reflected in Edwin’s new eyes.</p><p>“None can do anything about how the past has wronged you, about how the world loves to go wrong in every way, but I can do this.”</p><p>Thalia summoned herself, about to push the feeling away, but couldn’t let go once she gripped it. “Why would you care?” she whispered.</p><p>“You think you are stronger without a soul,” said Edwin, with something even close to compassion. “Cold. Hard. Unfeeling. Unyielding. Drow, even. But you are not stronger. You are brittle, as you always have been. Mae’Var near broke you once and this is not a place where we can afford a shattering.”</p><p>She shrugged. “Perhaps I no longer tire of killing those who trust me.”</p><p>“Did you never wonder how the elf Joneleth came to take the name <em> the Shattered One? </em> You have more soul than he was left with. Yes, the world is cruel and cares naught, but…” He took a deep breath and, eyes darting over the others, grimaced.</p><p>“You do.”</p><p>Edwin tensed, scouring her words for scorn and found none. “We must for each other, as none else will. And we’ll never make it out of here alive elsewise.”</p><p>“Not very drow,” said Viconia frostily. As her nose wrinkled, her healing become less gentle and Anomen buckled under her touch. “Phaere, now, that request. Very drow. We should’ve expected it. They are so caught up in their insignificant struggles for power within that they do not realise their true potential.”</p><p>“Solaufein is easily the best warrior I’ve ever fought alongside,” said Anomen through gritted teeth. “He could cut his way through the Order without breaking a sweat.”</p><p>“Indeed,” said Viconia thoughtfully. “If they simply stood together, there could be few forces on the multiverse with the strength to contest their domination. They could rule the whole of the Underdark, or even the surface.”</p><p>“And, yet they are divided,” said Edwin pointedly. “Division weakens this power. Among their own ranks, they draw claws for the sake of petty pride and—”</p><p>“You are certainly one to speak of petty pride, wizard,” she snapped.</p><p>A hand slid across Thalia’s shoulder, drawing her near, and she tensed before she realised it was Haer’Dalis. The nail of pain in her chest began to lessen. He guided her to sit again and he stood over her and Anomen.</p><p>“You alright?” asked Anomen gently.</p><p>Haer’Dalis brushed the concern away. “Phaere hurt little save my pride. Nevermind that, though. This sparrow still thinks our commander might have… practical thoughts on his imminent assassination.”</p><p>Viconia clawed herself from Edwin, though her glare lingered. “Solaufein wouldn’t believe we would spare him out of mercy.”</p><p>“Yet this shape we have taken is crafted for two pleasures — lust and betrayal.”</p><p>“Exactly. Why betray the ambitious mad First Daughter, when we could betray a weapons master who’s dug his own grave?”</p><p>“If one drow who did not fit society could flee to the surface,” said Anomen cautiously, “why not a second?”</p><p>“That risk… It would be monumental, if any would think we let him live,” said Viconia. Her hands slipped from him and he massaged the crux of his shoulder. “It is danger we do not need.”</p><p>Thalia did not want to kill Solaufein, true. Her fingers traced the web engravings on the pewter cup as she thought. Why not, though? She had killed trusted allies before. Their crimes did not demand deaths, but she had regardless. </p><p>It wasn’t mercy. Kindness was worthless, a balm against the world that would fade in minutes. Solaufein and her might’ve shared the most distant whisper of understanding, but her and Yoshimo had shared more. Solaufein was harsher to her than Minsc and Dynaheir ever had been. </p><p>The world turned her again to kill those she liked.</p><p>
  <em> And, what are we? </em>
</p><p>Why not? It was useless to fight her nature. Child of Murder. Perhaps it only meant murder was easy and the bloodshed enjoyable, regardless the target.</p><p>But it wasn’t who she wanted to be.</p><p>What she wanted, more than anything, was to be Imoen’s sister. Candlekeep was far behind. Imoen was dead. Even soulless, Thalia couldn’t banish the hollow thrumming ache of where love once sat. A love with nowhere to go. Imoen no longer existed. But her sister could. Dry and brittle. Cautious and thoughtful. Coarse and blunt. Capable of being ruthless and vicious, yes, but only when defending. </p><p>But not cruel. Not traitorous. </p><p>Would Imoen’s sister have risked all their lives, to be kind to one who hadn’t been to them?</p><p>
  <em> Obey and live — but know when it is time for your dagger to find a back. </em>
</p><p>For drow, such unsanctioned advice was beyond kind. It was an olive branch of an abbil.</p><p>“I will tell Solaufein myself,” said Thalia, breaking Viconia and Anomen’s argument. They both started to stare at her. “If he agrees, we’ll smuggle him from the city. If he’ll be a threat, I’ll kill him myself.”</p><p>Though her certainty attracted wary eyes, none argued against her. Slowly, they nodded and came to an agreement. The hours of peace alone did not refresh as they once had. The dire plan hung over their necks like an axe, waiting to swing. The tension left them stilted, though not at each others’ necks. It surprised her. Perhaps Viconia and Edwin were right, in their way. They were trapped in this together, for good or ill. </p><p>Eventually, Viconia had to declare dinner and an appearance. The food, heavy with acid and spice, was tasteless to Thalia. The atmosphere of the barroom swallowed their island of silence as drow took their recreations. </p><p>Phaere had her plots, though. And they turned onwards.</p><p>“Veldrin. Arm yourself and come.”</p><p>Thalia started to see Solaufein standing over her, armoured and in a fouler mood than ever. Anomen helped her into her armor again, their shared uncertainty heavier than what lay in front of her. His hand lingered in a small comfort. It was all he could give before Thalia followed Solaufein back out into the wilds.</p><p>“A patrol of dreugar down the eastern flats,” spat Solaufein. “Gnomes. And now <em> dwarves.” </em></p><p>Surely, only one of them was supposed to come back. A terrible and unfortunate death, but understandable. Every warrior, eventually, fell in battle. Escaping her commander’s death, Thalia would only bring a bloodstained cloak. A piwafwi. Her eye followed it as they walked. It was a beautiful garment. Woven of spidersilk. Ink black, but shifting iridescently. Under darkvision, it didn’t take to Solaufein’s warmth like the rest of his gear did. It remained cold as the stone. She knew it was pinned at his throat with a glyph of his house, the reverse bearing his name and title.</p><p>Solaufein stopped walking so suddenly Thalia almost bumped into him. He turned to glare at her, his fingers speaking new handsign she couldn’t understand.</p><p>“Obey and live — but know when it is time for your dagger to find a back,” she said calmly. “Phaere thinks for me to sheathe mine in yours. I won’t.”</p><p>Solaufein’s hand slowly fell and he breathed a small wounded sigh. He gathered himself and led them down a different tunnel. He levitated up the cliffs, but extended a hand to help Thalia to the height. He vanished through a crack in the stone. The ceiling was low, but the dank cave extended deep, ending at a glassy darklake.</p><p>Solaufein slid against the wall and bent a leg. “It was only a matter of time. Oh.” </p><p>Slowly, deliberately, he undid his swordbelt and tossed the weapon out of arms reach. It landed at Thalia’s feet. She disarmed herself and joined him to sit at the edge.</p><p>“Do you mind if I ask what happened?”</p><p>He stared pensively into the darklake, its faint blue glow illuminating his features. Despite claiming three centuries, he looked no older than any human in their prime. “We were lovers,” he said quietly. “Once. Long ago. Her mother — Matron Ardulace — felt Phaere cared for me in a most un-drow-like fashion. It was a stain on her house to have such a weak First Daughter, though her other daughters were too incompetant to kill her themselves.”</p><p>“You survived this,” said Thalia.</p><p>“Phaere didn’t. The Handmaidens took her. Carved her into a better shape, more befitting the honour of the house.” He shut his eyes. “Thinking of what she suffered under them, even now, I shudder. She was anew, when they released her. And I became a constant reminder of her weakness.”</p><p>Thalia swallowed that unwillingly. Life, it seemed, was little different. Irenicus. Mae’Var. Drow. “Enough pain will shatter any soul.”</p><p>Solaufein nodded. “If you don’t intend to kill me, what do you suggest we do, Veldrin?”</p><p>She was about to tell him to run. Phaere hadn’t even considered Thalia would disobey her, giving them the perfect opportunity to escape.</p><p>But all Thalia heard was Imoen. <em> Come </em> on <em> , Viconia. Being a drow doesn’t mean you get to be so miserable to everyone — especially when they give you… oatcakes! </em></p><p>Viconia had hated the breakfast, but she choked them down dutifully. And she had been less miserable that day.</p><p>“Veldrin?” asked Solaufein again.</p><p>“Come with us,” said Thalia heavily. “We’re almost done with Ust Natha and we can leave, together.”</p><p>“Ched Nasad is a… a very long way and… and I can see you don’t mean that city at all.” Something new, something damning entered his eyes. Hope. “You aren’t from Ched Nasad at all, are you? You aren’t drow.”</p><p>“Viconia is. She escaped Menzoberranzan years and years ago, coming… well.” She smiled. “Viconia came to the surface. I’m human, as are the rest of us — save… Hallis. He’s an actor, a tiefling, and rather caught in his role.”</p><p>“Humans?” said Solaufein, dumbstruck. “What… What possessed you to enter Ust Natha? Why would Viconia ever return, if she found such a complementary welcome on the surface?”</p><p>“We’ve been trapped in the Underdark for some time,” said Thalia in a low voice. “A silver dragon wants us to retrieve her stolen eggs. She would take us to the surface.”</p><p>Solaufein cursed under his breath. He scooped water from the darklake and ran it down his shocked face. “I… You are either the bravest creatures I’ve ever met, or the stupidest.”</p><p>“You and Viconia are of the same opinion, then.”</p><p>“I’ve thought often about fleeing to the surface, but…” He shrugged. “The journey is treacherous. Alone, I would never survive. They would hunt me and drag my screaming corpse into the Demonweb Pits.”</p><p>“Not if they think you dead. Phaere wants your cloak.” Thalia hesitated, but shook her head. “We did not make great friends of the gnomes of Blackenrock, but we did them a service. And you spared a patrol. They know where the silver dragon is. I’m sure she would protect you.”</p><p>Solaufein shook his head. “Do you think a desperate hope for the future can undo a lifetime of obedience to creatures like Phaere?”</p><p>“No,” she said honestly. “But it doesn’t mean nothing. And right now, it needs to mean everything.”</p><p>He carved his hand through his hair, deep in thought. “The matron mothers claim the silver dragon powerless,” he said, uncertain. “Though, I doubt they would trade the dragon’s eggs for my hide. In fact… I believe it was Mother Ardulace that made the proclamation.”</p><p>Thalia stared. “House Despana has the eggs.”</p><p>“I don’t know where, but likely.” He stretched his legs and grimaced. “I don’t like this idea, that I would take refuge whilst you and your humans work—”</p><p>“And Viconia. And Haer’Dalis.”</p><p>Solaufein glared. “I cannot return to Ust Natha without endangering you and myself, no matter how it galls me to be saved and owe surfacers for—”</p><p>“There is no debt,” she promised. Thalia forced him to look at her. “Do not make me go through this again. I’ve done this dance with Viconia several times. <em> You — owe — nothing. </em> This is for me as much as it is for you.”</p><p>Solaufein frowned, suddenly mistrustful. “What?”</p><p>“I refuse to walk in my father’s shadow.” She swallowed a knife. “I am who I decide to be. If you join us, I might tell you more.”</p><p>“There is no need,” he said softly. “That, perhaps, is a sentiment I understand well.” He hesitated, but did not relinquish her hold on his eyes. “The Spider Queen holds no sway over my heart. I worship her daughter, Eilistraee, the Lady Silverhair, the salvation for those drow who dare to hope for better lives.”</p><p>Thalia handed him his swordbelt back. As Solaufein accepted it, she put her arms around him. Their armor clanked and he grew rigid at the touch. Breath hissed through his teeth, as though anticipating a dagger. His fear bit deeper than any blade could’ve. Slowly, he understood she didn’t hurt him and, though he didn’t return the embrace, his head leaned against hers. It was more than enough.</p><p>Thalia belted her own weapons on and edged out of the low cave. Solaufein helped her down to the ground and removed his cloak and bloodied it. She accepted the piwafwi. It moved like water between her fingers, the smooth egg-shaped pin carved in ivory.</p><p>There was nothing more to say. Nothing for drow, certainly, and Thalia preferred their silence. She turned back to the tunnel, darkvision lighting their fading footsteps.</p><p>“What is your name?” </p><p>His voice was a fine echo in the wilds and she felt the press of her own absent soul asking the same question. The answer, she understood, was always known.</p><p>“Thalia, sister of Imoen the Quick.”</p><p>“Thank you, Thalia,” said Solaufein sincerely. “Farewell, and I do hope we meet again.”</p><p>He vanished into the dark of the wilds, camouflaging the heat of his body and armor in the patches of cool and warm. His path was all but invisible and she lost sight quickly.</p><p>The return to Ust Natha weighed lightly on her. The contentedness felt alien and unnatural, tinged as it was by hope. A faith that things would turn out. The city felt less strange, less dangerous. Now, there was an end in sight, even if they had to play the drowish intrigues.</p><p>Thalia found Phaere’s dwelling and knocked. Phaere gave no indication of having flown into a rage only earlier that night. She was composed, with a charming smile as a male led Thalia into her sitting room.</p><p>“Ah, back from patrol, I see, my darling Veldrin,” said Phaere. “Did all go according to plan?”</p><p>Thalia dropped the bloodstained piwafwi between their feet and handed Phaere the pin bearing Solaufein’s name. Her thumb brushed its varnished surface, printed with blood.</p><p>“He…” The single syllable betrayed something Phaere banished at once. “Solaufein is dead, yes?” she asked, her voice stronger.</p><p>Thalia nodded shortly.</p><p>“Yes, yes, of course, he… he is dead.” Phaere set the pin aside and took the cloak into her lap. Her fingers knotted, knuckles whitening. “You have done well, Veldrin,” she said, her voice as soulless as Thalia. “You’ve earned a place of honour in House Despana and have served us well. You’ve proven yourself worthy and may have the service of one of my pleasure slaves. I will have him sent to you at the Five Masks.”</p><p>Thalia kept her eyes from widening. “You honour me,” said Veldrin. “It was a pleasure alone to deal with the pest — the dreugar, I mean.”</p><p>“Rewards await those who serve well the glory of house and queen,” said Phaere, but her smile strained on her lips. “Go.”</p><p>Thalia bowed at the abrupt command and fled. Whatever Phaere once had been, she was long dead and what remained wanted no memory of her. Thalia had chosen a different path. She hoped they both found peace in it, but she was under no delusions.</p><p>Solaufein had agreed to join them. His safety, then, became Thalia’s priority.</p><p>She would kill Phaere.</p>
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